In Our Other Lives
by x-0
Summary: /SPOILERS up to SEASON 6/  After a particularly bad case, Hotchner forces Reid into early retirement. Reid becomes a philosophy professor at the University of Virginia. Jack Hotchner turns eighteen and decides to show both of them what might have been.
1. Chapter 1

**Title**: In Our Other Lives  
><strong>Fandom<strong>: Criminal Minds (2005), (c) Jeff Davis  
><strong>CharactersPairings**: Jack Hotchner; **Aaron Hotchner/Spencer Reid**; Spencer Reid/Lila Archer; Jack Hotchner/OFC; Team; Sean Hotchner; other OCs  
><strong>Genres<strong>: Post-Canon-ish/Drama/Romance/Alternate AU  
><strong>Rating<strong>: R  
><strong>Summary<strong>: [Contains **SPOILERS** up to **SEASON 6**] After a particularly bad case, Hotchner forces Reid into early retirement. Reid takes a position as a philosophy professor at the University of Virginia. Jack Hotchner turns eighteen and decides to show both of them what might have been.

**Note**: also x-posted to livejournal: .com/tag/title%3A%20in%20our%20other%20lives .

* * *

><p>"Though no one can go back and make a brand new start, anyone can start from now and make a brand new ending."<p>

-Carl Bard

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter I<strong>

When Jack Hotchner announces his intent to attend the University of Virginia, his father, SSA Aaron Hotchner reacts with profound disappointment. Jack does not take it personally; he knows that there are other opportunities out there, and that Aaron, because of his work with the FBI, would really rather his son go off to another country far away from Quantico. It was safer that way, if he was away. But Jack hates the thought of too much snow and rain in a place like Ireland, and too much sun in a place like Italy. He finally agrees to meet Aaron halfway and drives to the nearest courthouse with Uncle Sean one morning and has his name legally changed.

Going the extra mile, he even bleaches his hair, but the resulting color, Uncle Sean assures him, is very tasteful.

John Russell Hotchner is now Jackson Cade Hayley. He remembers his mother, and thinks that is mostly why Aaron has relented. He practices his new signature two hundred times, but in the end, it's still awkward, with too many angles. The signature on his new driver's license is altogether illegible.

Downstairs, in a rare turn when Aaron, Uncle Sean, and Jack are all home together, Jack can hear voices floating up the stairs. He pulls his earbuds out of his ears and stands quietly next to his open door -

"He's being unreasonable," says Aaron.

There is a long pause before Uncle Sean answers, "No, I think he is being a good son."

Aaron says nothing after that. Jack waits a moment for that odd feeling in his stomach to settle down, then he goes back to work.

* * *

><p>On a Friday morning, exactly a month away from his thirty-eighth birthday, Dr. Spencer Reid, professor at the University of Virginia's department of Philosophy receives one letter, and one phone call. The letter comes first.<p>

The letter is from SSA Emily Prentiss, although she signs it under an alias. She tells him that Ian Doyle is dead, shot dead in a godforsaken part of Moscow trying avoid capture. She is living in Switzerland presently, alive and well. She misses them all, and wants to know why he is no longer working at the BAU. Please call or write as convenient.

Reid tucks the letter in the bottommost drawer in the desk in his study, and vows to think about it later. A reply cannot be hasty. The phone call comes after he has finished his third cup of coffee. It is Lila Archer.

It's a funny thing, his interaction with Lila Archer, actress. She calls every time that she is in Charlottesville for a film, and though Reid always manages to have very nice conversations with her, he cannot bear to meet her in person. As if she represents a part of him he'd really rather forget. It's been going on for years. She even calls when she has a boyfriend.

"Hi, Lila."

"Hi, Dr. Reid," she says. "I bet you're surprised to hear from me."

That sentiment has never made any sense to Reid. You either hear from someone, or you do not. Surprise has very little to do with either of those circumstances, "It is always nice to hear from you. I saw your new movie."

There is a lot of noise in the background, rumbling, bits of French, English, Thai. Reid assumes that Lila is at the airport, "Did you? What did you think?"

"Well, a lot of the research in the film was done very poorly; for example when the unsub kidnapped Ellie and put her in the freezer -"

"Unsub," Lila laughs. "Have you snuck back to the FBI without telling me?"

"What? No. I never, I meant villain. Villain. And you were wonderful in the film." He says it twice, tacking it off with a compliment, hoping to sound convincing. "Actually, I have departmental meetings now, in a couple of minutes and I have to go. But my last meeting ends at four-thirty, if you're not doing anything in particular, um."

"Yes, Spencer," says Lila. "Yes, I'd love to meet you for coffee. I thought you'd never ask."

* * *

><p>Aaron Hotchner takes exactly half a day away from his desk on a Sunday morning to help Jack move into his college dorm. Sean has already volunteered himself as the supervisory father surrogate, but Aaron knows that he also needs to be there in person. The dorm room is of a good size, and Aaron decides that his son has grown up, after all. Maybe, a little. He finds that he dislikes Jack's roommate on sight, because of the loudly questionable posters he puts up on his side of the room, and makes a note to ask Garcia for a complete background check.<p>

"Dad."

"- _Dad_," says Jack's voice.

Aaron shakes himself, "Pardon?"

"Whatever you're thinking, don't do it." Jack wrinkles his nose, "You have that weird look on your face."

Aaron examines his face in the mirror mounted by the closet, "There isn't anything on my face." He concludes at last, wondering which facial twitch gave him away.

Jack rolls his eyes, "Go back to work Dad, I'll be fine. See you this weekend if I see you."

Aaron checked his phone, confirming that he has already missed five calls. He claps a hand on his son's shoulder and smiles an old man's smile, "I'm sure you will be." He thinks he catches a glimpse of Jack's own smile as he walks away.

* * *

><p>Reid agrees to meet Lila at a quiet little coffeehouse just a block off campus. She is already there when he arrives, and she kisses him on both cheeks, leaving pink-red lipstick marks. Her nails are painted the exact some shade, and she wears a t-shirt with a logo on it, jeans, and a pale peach-colored scarf. Lila must have dyed her hair for an upcoming role.<p>

"Your hair looks nice."

"Thanks."

A waiter wanders by and asks them if they'd like to order drinks. Lila insists that Spencer order for her, and Reid orders her a raspberry smoothie. She liked berries, he remembers her telling him once. He gets a coffee with extra caramel and extra espresso with chocolate sprinkles. The waiter wanders off again, and Reid looks across the table at her.

"The coffee here isn't very good, but they have good smoothies."

Lila raises a mildly curious eyebrow, "But you ordered a coffee."

"For some reason, they know how to make more unorthodox drinks," Reid shrugs one shoulder. "Mine's very unorthodox."

Their drinks come, Reid's coffee looks like a sugary monstrosity, just the way he likes it. Lila says, "Looks like it." Then she laughs. Reid really likes her laugh. It helps him forget.

"So, um."

"Um," Lila echoes him, not so helpfully. "I'll be in town until the end of the month. I only a have a few scenes in this movie. But they all look fun. I'll get to climb a tree in high heels."

Reid winced, "That doesn't sound fun." Some tree climbing statistics come to mind, and he is about to recite them before she interrupts him again.

"Okay, you're right, it isn't. But it's interesting. Like, it's not something you'll ever get to do." Lila grins at him.

Spencer Reid will never have the opportunity to climb trees in high heels and get caught on camera doing it. That much is true, he tries to imagine something so ridiculous, and obviously fails.

"School's just started," he says, choosing his words carefully. "I'm sure I will get busier. There has been an influx of students this year, interested in philosophy. I'm quite famous on campus. For being weird. And me, that sort of thing."

Lila leans across the table and kisses him, she tastes faintly of raspberry, "I wouldn't want to be a bother, Dr. Reid."

* * *

><p>No one has quite forgiven Aaron Hotchner for his decision after that one case. Of course, it was long enough ago that no one says anything about it anymore, but he knows. He sees. Aaron is in his office catching up on emails when JJ knocks on his door, "Hey Hotch, got a minute?"<p>

"Yeah."

"Did Jack get settled all right?" She is carrying a bundle of files in her arms, but apparently she is just using them as a guise.

"I left him and Sean to take care of the rest of it," Aaron leans back against his chair and rubbed his eyes. "My son's eighteen."

Because JJ is a mother, she understands better than anyone. But because she is not any of the other things, she doesn't understand, "I'll probably feel that way when Henry turns eighteen. Jack's a good kid though. You raised him right." She says it, not perhaps because she believes it, but she knows instinctively that he needs to hear it.

She takes the vacant chair on the other side of his desk, "I'm assuming you heard about Doyle. Have you spoken to Emily?"

"No, but I plan to." Aaron suddenly feels claustrophobic in his office. He stands, too quickly, "I have a meeting with Strauss. Is there anything else?"

JJ looks at him, "Does Spence know?"

"I," Aaron opens his mouth, closes it again. "Don't know. Excuse me."

* * *

><p>"Amanda, Amanda, I know. I'll be there soon. No, don't be drastic," Reid stares at Lila's mouth, marveling at the way she forms words. "...Yes, I know. See you in a few."<p>

They are holding hands, and it's not Reid's first time holding someone's hand, but it feels like a first time. "Do you have to go?"

"Yeah, I'm sorry." she breathed next to the crook of his neck, "I'm filming tomorrow, but." There is a brief, but heavy pause, "I'd like to see you again. Can we try to do that?"

He walks her back to her car by the coffeehouse, watches her get in. "I would like that."

* * *

><p>The monotone clicking of Garcia's keyboard brought up the profile of one Troy Anthony Burrell. Born January 6, 1999. Father worked on Wall Street, mother was a nurse. Troy had grown up abroad in New Zealand, and he had no record, although he had an extensive collection of tattoos. Currently a freshman studying at the University of Virginia, drove a giant gas guzzler.<p>

He has no perceivable record, but that does not relieve Aaron any less.

"Before I feel any more creepy," Garcia swivels around in her chair to face him. "Who is this?"

"Jack's roommate, I thought he looked suspicious when I met him this morning."

"Sir, I'm disappointed in you."

"Thanks, Garcia." Truthfully, Aaron doesn't know whether she is joking.

* * *

><p>Despite his roommate's array of tattoos, Jack finds that he rather likes the guy, and Troy is a lot more harmless than he looks. "Have you ever thought about what happens to those things once you turn, I dunno, sixty?"<p>

Troy laughs, but not in a mean-spirited way. "Doubt that I'll get that old."

Troy already has a huge network of friends and they spend their first night drinking beer and playing video games. Some girl gets stupid enough to mention upcoming classes and brings the party to a general halt.

"I definitely would want to take a class with Dr. Reid," she giggles drunkenly, leaning against Jack's closet door, "I heard he's really cute. And a genius."

Jack watches her, mostly because he's afraid she's going to throw up. He's got to stay alert, and ready to toss the trash can in her direction at any time. The name strikes a chord with him though.

"Dr. Spencer Reid?"

"Yeah, he teaches philosophy," the girl bobs her head up and down excitedly while looking rather green. Jack more or less shoves the trash can into her hands.

"Here, hold this."

* * *

><p>Despite what he tells Lila, Reid finds himself facing a rather easy semester. He is teaching four classes: Marxist Theory and Ideology, Schopenhauer, The Truth About Existentialism, and an introductory course to Game Theory.<p>

His colleagues are wary of giving him any introductory courses to teach, because the last time they made such a rudimentary mistake, Reid unknowingly failed his whole class. He still isn't aware of how that could have happened. It just did.

"You know," he idly stirs three sugar packets into his coffee, only his second cup of the day. "I'm getting the feeling that no one really trusts me around here."

Professor Kay Brightwood is this year's department chair. She is an elderly woman in her sixties who reminds Reid distinctly of his own mother, except, without the schizophrenia. "That's not true, Spencer." Her eyes peer at him over thick-rimmed glasses, "You have to remember that not everyone has such intellectual advantages."

"I didn't fail my class on purpose," says Reid, only mildly indignant because they've gone over this at least a hundred times. "You know I didn't." And the grades have all been changed around anyway, he can't understand why everyone is making such a pointless fuss. He runs a hand through his unruly mane of hair and vows to get a haircut - if not a cut, then at least a trim, before he has to meet up with Lila again.

"Besides, I don't know anything about Game Theory, I just bought some books."

Brightwood makes a small noise of disbelief, "How many books, Spencer?"

"Forty-three, average of five hundred pages each." It seems to be a sloppy statistic, but Reid knows that Brightwood isn't really asking, only stating a point.

She pats him with a motherly hand, and gets up, "I rest my case, kiddo."

* * *

><p>Aaron Hotchner cannot allow himself to think of Spencer Reid. If he thinks of Spencer Reid, he thinks of mistakes that he should have never made. Other decisions that wouldn't have led to what it led to. Now that he looks back, with a clear mind and not so much a clear conscience, it's all a mistake.<p>

Aaron's team members do not blame him, he knows they don't. They can wish that he could have made a different choice then, but they don't blame him.

His phone jingles, pulling him out of his too-thoughtful stupor, "Hotchner."

"Hey, it's Sean. Heading over to the airport now, but I wanted to drop by and actually say good-bye. You in your office?"

There is a strange echoing effect on the other end of the line. Aaron looks up to see Sean leaning against his doorway, "Sean -"

"Was wondering how long it'd take for you to notice," his brother steps into the room. "Paperwork's really all that interesting, huh?"

"I was just thinking."

"Do you ever do anything else?"

Aaron gives him a look, "How's Jack?"

"He's fine," right after that, Sean repeats himself. "I mean, really Aaron, he's fine. Aren't you going to wish me a safe flight?"

"Have a safe flight, Sean."

* * *

><p>Out of curiosity, Jack signs up for PHIL-204: Introduction to Game Theory under Dr. Spencer Reid. It meets Tuesdays and Thursdays at 10:00 AM, and the reading load is ridiculous. At the bookstore, Jack regrets his decision after he hands over five hundred bucks.<p>

"Are you taking Intro to Game Theory too?" Behind him is a familiar voice. Jack shifts his focus from monetary loss to the girl who almost threw up in his room two nights ago. She smiles shyly at him, "Sorry, I don't remember your name."

"Oh, uh, Jackson, but you can call me Jack." Jack shakes her outstretched hand. "I don't remember your name, either." Or if she has even given it to him.

"My name's Chloe," she hangs on a moment too long and lets go. "Did I throw up in your room when I, uh...I mean, I don't exactly remember, but I did, I want to apologize." She - Chloe looks properly remorseful after the fact. Just for that, Jack forgives her.

"Don't worry about it, you didn't throw up. If you did, you were holding the trash can anyway, it's fine." He glances down at his two bagfuls of textbooks. There are books in there for other classes too, but most of the books are for Intro to Game Theory.

"I'm going to the library to get a head start on all this reading," Chloe grins brightly in his general direction. "Wanna come with me?"

* * *

><p><em>There were lights. Impossibly bright lights. And there were voices. Voices screaming his name - "Reid! Reid! Open your eyes kid, open your eyes. Stay with me. Come on, open your eyes -" <em>

_But the lights. The lights were too bright. And he was so tired. And Reid might have heard a glimmer of his mother's voice there somewhere in the chaos. She was reading, from some technical textbook, and Reid suddenly remembered and __**missed**__ how his mother never seemed to stumble over even the most difficult of words. _

_There was a harsh rattling sound that drowned out his mother's soothing drone. _

"_Reid! Reid!"_

Reid wakes up with a start, and wonders vaguely whether he might be dying. The room is very dark, and instinctively, he reaches for the lamp switch. The room now has an austere glow to it, but it is still too dark. His watch reads 4:43 AM. He lies there for a couple more seconds, before he goes through his entire apartment and turns on every light, including the porch light.

Then he settles on the couch with a book about Game Theory; it's a book he has already read two days ago, but there isn't any harm in a thorough re-reading. The words whiz by, and it's suddenly impossible to grasp any useful meaning. Reid puts the book down, and picks up his phone, which is never far away out of bad habit.

He dials Lila Archer. She's not - she's not Aaron, but at least she is there. He waits. If it goes to voicemail, Reid decides ahead of time that he will not leave a message. He hasn't got anything to say.

"...Spencer?"

Reid opens his mouth, no sound comes out.

"Spencer, it's four in the morning."

Reid leans back too far and hits his head on against the wall, "I uh," he says, as intelligently as he can possibly manage.

"Can you stay on the line for a little while? You don't have to say anything."

There is a long pause; he can hear her breathing. Finally Lila says, "Okay. Okay Spencer. I'm right here."

* * *

><p><em>Jack could not have been more than six or seven years old, but he remembered helping his mother count carrot pieces in the kitchen. A Dr. Spencer Reid was coming over for dinner, and he was young. Daddy liked to take care of people, to protect them. <em>

_His mother said some other things he could not understand, but he understood without any doubt that Daddy was a good, brave man and wanted to protect this Dr. Spencer Reid. That was enough._


	2. Chapter 2

**Title**: In Our Other Lives  
><strong>Fandom<strong>: Criminal Minds (2005), (c) Jeff Davis  
><strong>CharactersPairings**: Jack Hotchner; **Aaron Hotchner/Spencer Reid**; Spencer Reid/Lila Archer; Jack Hotchner/OFC; Team; Sean Hotchner; other OCs  
><strong>Genres<strong>: Post-Canon-ish/Drama/Romance/Alternate AU  
><strong>Rating<strong>: R  
><strong>Summary<strong>: [Contains **SPOILERS** up to **SEASON 6**] After a particularly bad case, Hotchner forces Reid into early retirement. Reid takes a position as a philosophy professor at the University of Virginia. Jack Hotchner turns eighteen and decides to show both of them what might have been.

**Note**: also x-posted to livejournal: .com/tag/title%3A%20in%20our%20other%20lives

* * *

><p>One bad move nullifies forty good ones."<p>

I.A. Horowitz 

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 2<strong>

Introduction to Game Theory is a surprisingly popular class. Jack and Chloe arrive ten minutes early and the class is already three-quarters full. They find seats in the very front row.

"D'you know him?" Chloe is chewing gum. Jack is sitting close enough to her so he can smell watermelon with a hint of cherry.

"Who?"

"Dr. Reid." She tucks a thin strand of hair behind her ear, "I mean, I was really drunk. But it seemed like you know him."

"Knew him," Jack corrects without thinking. Then he wishes he hadn't opened his big mouth. Chloe spares him an odd little glance, as she opens her notebook to a fresh page, "O-kay, then. Are you sure you don't want any gum?"

"I'm good, thanks."

At precisely 10:00 AM on the dot, Dr. Spencer Reid walks through the door, a little bit more disheveled than Jack remembers, but the man hasn't changed. He still walks around like a gawky teenager who hasn't quite managed to grow into his too-long limbs, and his glasses are still ridiculous. Jack can't bring himself to dislike him.

Dr. Reid puts down five thick books beside him on the lectern, "Good morning," he says, sounding a little too awake for ten in the morning; the large coffee thermos. "And welcome to Introduction to Game Theory, I'm your professor for this class, and since I spent all last week reading about Game Theory, you're in good hands."

Last week? Their professor has only spent last week preparing for a whole semester's worth of class? The class is buzzing with all sorts of reactions. This class is a surefire easy A. This guy's crazy.

Until Dr. Reid passes out the syllabus, which is seven pages long, front and back, and meticulously detailed. There are essays due every other week, and for an introductory course, it's a lot of reading. Somehow, Jack is not surprised.

The next hour and a half, Jack cramps up his hand writing notes - three full pages Dr. Reid loses track of time and lets them out five minutes late, ending awkwardly with, "And that's what awaits us this semester. Any questions?"

Someone in the back of the room raises a hand, "Professor, I think you forgot to take attendance."

There's a collective groan from the group, the guy on Jack's other side grumbles something about not being able to make his next class on time. Since, you know, it's on the other side of campus.

Dr. Reid surveys the room for a brief second, "There isn't a need to take attendance. I glanced at my roster this morning and everyone seems to be present save for two people," he starts picking up his books. "Have a nice day." He walks abruptly out of the room.

Chloe spits out her gum on a torn corner of notebook paper, "I'm so totally going to fail this class." She shrugs, "At least he's cute, right?" 

* * *

><p><em>Jack was six-years-old when he met Spencer Reid. Daddy said, "Jack. This is Dr. Reid. He's the smartest man in the world."<em>

_"You don't really mean that, Hotch." But Dr. Reid, unlike Jack, wasn't shy, and didn't look away from him. "Hello, Jack." His voice was thin and high, like he was a boy like Jack, stuck in a bigger body._

_"Hello," said Jack, staring at his feet. "What's 342 times 424?" He was learning numbers, and both of those numbers seemed big and far away like millions._

_"145,008. Here, let me show you." Dr. Reid didn't even pause. He punched in the numbers into his cell phone, just in case Jack didn't believe him._

_"Jack, honey?" Mommy was calling. "Come help Mommy in the kitchen with dinner; don't be rude." She was wearing old clothes, but his Mommy was the most beautiful woman in the whole world._

* * *

><p>Out of a strange compulsive obligation, Aaron visits Hayley's grave with a small bouquet of orchids and tells her that Jack has grown up to be a fine young man. Jack's starting college this week, and he's changed his name to remember her. Jack misses his mother terribly. And Aaron -<p>

"I miss you too," Of course he does. It is inevitable that he would miss a woman who has spent some twenty years with him, but it is different, now.

His phone rings, and he is so relieved to hear JJ's voice on the other end, "Hotch, I got a call from a small town in Colorado, two bodies were found -"

She doesn't even have to finish. Aaron knows he's got to get away, "Tell them we'll take it. Give me a few minutes, I'm not far away."

"Sure, we'll be here."

JJ hangs up, and Aaron calls Jack's cell phone, gets his voicemail:

_Hey, this is Jack. You know the drill._

"Hello Jack, this is your father. I'm going to be in Colorado this weekend, so obviously, I'm not going to be home. Just letting you know. Make sure to call your Aunt Jess if you need anything. Bye." Aaron Hotchner has had so many formal conversations with victims, unsubs, colleagues, that the informal conversations never came easy anymore. Even leaving a voicemail for his own son is proving to be needlessly difficult. This is not normal.

And here, here is where Reid's matter-of-fact voice creeps into his head and has the nerve to _stay_, "_Well, you know. At least you know what it's like, being normal. You know, I wish I knew._"

Sometimes, Aaron Hotchner fervently wishes he had the sense to lead an easier life. 

* * *

><p>"You've dyed your hair," a voice pulls him from <em>Contexts of Modern Sociology<em>, Jack glances up to see Dr. Reid slide into the unoccupied chair beside him. "I hardly recognize you. I didn't see your name on my roster."

"I had my name changed," says Jack. "Dad made me. Said it was pragmatic if I wanted to stay local."

Dr. Reid doesn't ask about his new name; a man of his caliber, he hardly needs to. Instead, he fixes Jack with a mildly interested gaze and says:

"And how is Hotch?"

Jack studies the man beside him, a man who isn't young anymore, but Spencer Reid is not a man who can be easily forgot, "He hasn't forgotten about you."

"Don't do that. Don't do that, Jack."

"Do what?" Jack's highlighter is obnoxious and orange, the orange has swallowed up half the page, at least. He glances away.

"Don't answer questions I haven't asked you," Dr. Reid's voice sounds strained.

It sucks being a son of a very good FBI profiler. In addition to being targeted by psychotic murderers every once in a while, you'll know things that you've never wanted to know, and Jack has never asked to know any of those things, "You wanted to ask," he says, exchanging his orange highlighter for a more sedated shade of blue to save himself from going blind. "But whatever. Dad's fine. Still working too much, but fine."

Dr. Reid says, "He's like that." As if he is trying to shield Jack from some God-awful truth he will never understand.

Jack closes his book, "I didn't come here, you know, because of you. I want to stay close to Dad. That's all." He feels that he absolutely needs to make this clear. He's not here as a spy on his father's behalf, nor is he going to become Dr. Reid's snake. There is still time to drop Introduction to Game Theory, Jack thinks, he has until the close of business today.

"I know, Jack," Dr. Reid shifts uncomfortable on the edge of his chair. "I also know that you aren't Aaron," he pauses after that. The silence is heavy and impossible, "...Do you still play chess?"

Jack thinks of the battered old chess set that's in the box marked 'Misc.' next to his fridge in his dorm room, "Some, I haven't got anyone to play with. Unless you know, it's on the Internet. I kind of hate Internet chess."

"Do you win a lot?"

Jack turns the page of _Contexts of Modern Sociology_ and puts down his blue highlighter in favor of a black pen to make asterisks next to the concepts he thinks he needs to review again.

"Sometimes," this is a lie. Jack wins most times; this is one of the most severe disadvantages when everything he knows about the game of chess is learned from Spencer Reid.

Dr. Reid's whole expression shifts into something unrecognizable, and then Jack looks away and it's like the expression was never there in the first place, "If you'd like, you can come by my office hours."

Jack is considering this proposal, when a strange ringtone sounds. Dr. Reid digs out his phone, and answers with, "This is Reid." (Which is an unmistakable echo after Aaron's "This is Hotchner.")

"Lila, hello." Dr. Reid is talking in a loud whisper. Even if Jack is trying not to eavesdrop, it is a little difficult. "Now? No, I don't think I'm doing anything." There is a slight smile playing at the edge of the man's lips, and Jack thinks he recognizes the smile. "Sure, I can meet you. See you in a little while."

When Dr. Reid gets off the phone, Jack says, nonchalantly, "Maybe sometime."

"I'll look forward to it," the man is getting to his feet, walking away. He favors his right leg, just ever so slightly.

Before the man can completely disappear, Jack changes his mind: "Dr. Reid."

The man turns, "Yes?"

"If I win, you have do something for me."

Dr. Reid is brushing imaginary flecks of dust off of his gray suit jacket, "Okay, Jack. If you win." 

* * *

><p>"Hotch," there is a light knock on his door. Morgan is standing there with his arms crossed. "What's wrong with you?"<p>

"It's late," says Aaron, gesturing at the standard-issue alarm clock on the hotel end table which shows the Godforsaken hour of three in the morning. "And I have no idea what you're talking about."

Morgan steps in the room, but he does not make for the nearest chair, "But you're awake."

"I was doing some work," Aaron says. He has the paperwork next to his pillow to prove it, too. "Catching up."

Morgan looks skeptical, but he seems to accept the explanation, for now, at least. "JJ says that Strauss's been on your back."

Aaron shrugs, "Occupational hazard." He mentally kicks himself for slipping the bit about his meeting with Strauss. The fact that he and Erin Strauss haven't seen eye to eye ever since they started together is old news.

"Hotch -"

"It's nothing, Morgan."

Morgan leaves him alone, perhaps well aware of his agitation. Aaron turns to his files again, tapping his pen thoughtfully against the edge of his mattress. He waits for morning. 

* * *

><p><em>"Checkmate," Aaron watched as Spencer prodded his bishop forward three spaces.<em>

_Jack, who was situated comfortably on Aaron's lap, and the boy twisted around to fix his father with a stern little frown, "Daddy, I lost. Again."_

_"But you were very close to beating me," said Spencer, in a rare moment of emotional brilliance because he sensed the boy's disappointment. Quickly, he rearranged the board. "Okay, remember this?"_

_Aaron didn't think he himself did, but Jack nodded._

_"See, if you moved your knight over here? I would have to move my rook over here," Spencer demonstrated with the pieces as he spoke. Aaron's attention was more on his son, whose eyes were rapt with fierce concentration._

_"And then, see? Move your bishop over here, and I'll sacrifice my queen. And then you'll have checkmate."_

_Jack reached for his rook over to the designated square, "Checkmate," he declared proudly. throwing both arms up in the air._

_Spencer was smiling at Jack's reaction, but his eyes were on Aaron. He didn't need to say anything for Aaron to smile back._

* * *

><p>Reid goes to meet Lila at her hotel, because she's had a long day of filming and Reid has nothing better to do. He wonders if there's paparazzi outside and vows to be careful.<p>

Home for Lila this month is an extravagantly furnished suite. She hates hotels, really, and prefers quaint bed and breakfasts when such a feat can be managed. Lila has spent the whole day clambering up trees and five-inched heels and she's exhausted. Reid can't blame her.

He asks if he can go smoke a cigarette on her balcony and this surprises her, "I didn't know you smoked, Spencer."

Reid unearths a full pack of cigarettes and a shiny lighter, rarely used. He lights one, inhales halfway, and coughs. "I don't, not really."

Lila comes up behind him and puts arms around his waist, "Does it ever get lonely where you are?"

"I don't really think about that," Reid says honestly.

Because poignant conversations between two people who are attracted to each other usually leads to some sort of sex, there is sex that night. But it's embarrassing, and when it's over and done with, Reid trips red-faced to the bathroom and takes a record shower totaling exactly 43.5 seconds. he's in a hurry to leave. He has to leave, he has -

"Spencer, wait."

Lila Archer is lonely. She looks it too. She is wearing nothing but a thin bed sheet and Reid suddenly feels unbelievably sorry for her.

"Please stay."

He doesn't know what to say.

"Unless there's someone else," she smiles, but her eyes are sad. "Is there?"

Reid takes a step towards her, then another, then another. He puts his hands on her shoulders, "No, there isn't anyone." 

* * *

><p>The chess pieces are so old, most of the paint has chipped off. Jack arranges the board in order, and stares at it. He is still staring when Troy comes back smelling thickly of French fries, "What," Troy says. "Are you doing?"<p>

"I have no idea." 

* * *

><p><em>"Shouldn't you be asleep?"<em>

_Jack nearly jumped out of his skin. The figure looming in the kitchen doorway wasn't Mommy or Daddy. It was Dr. Reid, "I was getting some juice. Thirsty." Jack grips the cup in his hands tighter, "Why aren't you asleep?"_

_The man shrugs, "I don't sleep much."_

_"Daddy doesn't either."_

_Dr. Reid retreated back into the living room, where a big air mattress and blankets had been set up for him, Jack followed him. "Your daddy works very hard."_

_Jack nodded to his juice, "I know. You must work hard too. That's why you don't sleep much," he was proud of his conclusion, and looked quickly to Dr. Reid for some sort of confirmation._

_"Oh," apparently Jack was wrong though, because Dr. Reid looked surprised. "Well, I don't work nearly as hard as Hotch."_

_"Daddy says everyone in his team works hard," Jack said, taking offense mainly because he has never known his father to tell a lie._

_Dr. Reid lies down on the mattress, but he patted the space beside him on the mattress in a weird way, but Jack sat down anyway._

_"I have bad dreams sometimes," said Dr. Reid._

_"Do you dream about monsters?"_

_"Yeah, big scary monsters."_

_Jack's eyes grew very wide, "Daddy keeps the monsters away for me, and Mommy says that juice helps," in a heroic gesture, he offers the man his cup. "D'you want some juice?"_

* * *

><p>Dr. Reid has office hours every day from 1:30 to 3:00. Jack feels thoroughly inadequate having only taken a week to review everything he's ever known about chess. He has watched all of Garry Kasparov's games on YouTube, reconstructed most all the games, and has at least skimmed the books that he's checked out from the library. If he drags this out any longer, Jack is going to lose his nerve.<p>

Armed with his old chess set, Jack knocks on Dr. Reid's door.

"It's open."

Jack goes in.

Dr. Reid's office is a claustrophobic cubicle filled with nothing but books. He's pouring over a book that's not in English, and he seems surprised to see Jack.

"Jack, may I help you?"

Jack sets the chess set down on the desk, "I was hoping for a game. If you're not too busy."

While they are setting up the pieces, Dr. Reid throws out the remark, "I'm surprised you kept this."

Jack shrugs.

"Which color do you want?"

Jack knows that he's probably making Dr. Reid uncomfortable. Only probably - because he's not a real profiler and doesn't ever plan to be one, "I don't care."

"I forget teenagers don't care about much," Dr. Reid gestures at the board. "Let's just play like this." The black side is facing Jack.

"Fine," he says, and pushes forward a pawn.

A few moves pass, and Dr. Reid says, "You've been watching Kasparov's games."

"Yeah, a little."

It's Dr. Reid's move, he picks up his knight, but puts it down again. "What did you want me to do for you?"

Right, it's Dr. Spencer Reid and his crazy memory, he never forgets anything. It's a wonder how he doesn't go insane, "Why are you even asking? It's not like I'll win."

Dr. Reid shrugs, "You might." He says this, as he knocks Jack's queen off the board.

"I'm not telling you unless I win."

"Suit yourself."

Thirty-six moves later, Dr. Reid slides his rook across the board.

"Checkmate."

Jack smiles at him, just a tad bitter. "See?"

There's a knock on Dr. Reid's door. A girl's voice calls out, "Professor Reid? Can you help me out with my paper?"

Dr. Reid says, "I'm actually with a student -"

"You're not anymore," Jack quickly cleans up the pieces and puts them all in the box. "I'm leaving. Thank you for the game."  
><strong><br>**


	3. Chapter 3

**Title**: In Our Other Lives  
><strong>Fandom<strong>: Criminal Minds (2005), (c) Jeff Davis  
><strong>CharactersPairings**: Jack Hotchner; **Aaron Hotchner/Spencer Reid**; Spencer Reid/Lila Archer; Jack Hotchner/OFC; Team; Sean Hotchner; other OCs  
><strong>Genres<strong>: Post-Canon-ish/Drama/Romance/Alternate AU  
><strong>Rating<strong>: R  
><strong>Summary<strong>: [Contains **SPOILERS** up to **SEASON 6**] After a particularly bad case, Hotchner forces Reid into early retirement. Reid takes a position as a philosophy professor at the University of Virginia. Jack Hotchner turns eighteen and decides to show both of them what might have been.

**Note**: also x-posted to livejournal: .com/tag/title%3A%20in%20our%20other%20lives

* * *

><p><strong><strong>"It's the things I might have said that fester."

Clemence Dane

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 3<strong>

Aaron Hotchner thinks about apologizing sometimes. He thinks about what he might say, treating this whole thing as a delicate hostage negotiation spanning several years. He thinks of what might have been different.

An apology means he's wrong, he's made a mistake, and Aaron knows he hasn't. There are only worse choices and better choices. There is no ideal, and there is certainly no mistake. There is only what might have been.

They catch the unsub in Colorado, a thirty-year-old homeless man suffering from mild schizophrenia. Aaron watches as the local authorities drag him away, Rossi takes a place beside him, and says, "It was obvious."

In the end, the total body count is five. There should have been much less than that.

Aaron shrugs, "Hindsight's always perfect. Pack up, early flight tomorrow."

On the way back to the hotel, Aaron finds a message from Jack, sandwiched between standard bureaucratic orders.

"Hey Dad, it's Jack. Um. Figured you'd probably be busy, but I just wanted to say hi. And um," there is a long long pause. Aaron counts one, two, three, almost four seconds of dead silence. "Never mind, let's have dinner when you get back. There's this great place off campus. Bye."

Aaron replays the message fifteen times; each time, he fills in the silence with different things.

* * *

><p>For his first (short) six-paged paper for Introduction to Game Theory, Jack gets a B+. Under his concluding paragraph, Dr. Reid has written in blue pen in the kind of cursive that is only employed by old men: <em>Thoughtful argument, well presented. Endgame needs more work.<em>

Endgame. Dr. Reid is very funny. Jack quickly tucks his paper away.

Chloe, despite everything that she's been saying, stands by the fact that being privy to Spencer Reid's pretty face two days a week is totally and completely worth failing a class for. She gets a C slashed on her paper, and the margins are filled with sharp scrawls.

"He loves me," Chloe tells Jack with a more or less a straight face. "See? He even wants me to come see him during office hours."

It takes Jack a moment to arrange his expression in order. In a similarly deadpan manner, he says, "You are so unbelievably shallow, Clo."

She laughs, and loops her arm easily through his, "D'you want to grab some coffee?"

* * *

><p><em>His first date with Aaron did not go well. The only consolation was that Aaron probably didn't see it that way.<em>

_By "date" Reid discounted coffee detours after work, and lunches at the office. Their first date consisted of taking visiting a park, only to have that ruined by a freak storm - Reid could memorize any weather report in a heartbeat, but even he was powerless against coincidence. What should have been a pleasant walk and picnic sandwiches and poring over files outdoors, turned into Aaron looking very awkward in Reid's clothes while Reid hung Aaron's clothes up to dry in his bathroom._

_They ate wet tuna sandwiches, and pored over files that miraculously stayed dry over strong, thick coffee in Reid's living room. Aaron took his coffee with a stately spoonful of cream. This was starting to seem a little familiar._

_"The weather station lied to me," Reid said, sounding probably as betrayed as he felt._

_"Don't beat yourself up," said Aaron. "Data is wrong, sometimes."_

_"They shouldn't be. I get confused."_

_Aaron laughed, a short-lived little chuckle, "Don't you ever get tired of being genius?"_

_Reid pinched the bridge of his nose and touched a hand to his glasses. The words on the page before him were slightly blurry, and he made a mental note about getting new prescriptions, maybe._

_"That's inaccurate, because by using the word genius? You assume that I know everything, which I don't. Contrary to popular belief, Google's still probably more knowledgeable than I am if you look at the search engine as a whole." It was a speech that he had to give often, so it was more of a reflex. A reflex that Reid instinctively wished he didn't have, this time._

_"Google is a machine," Aaron deadpanned, reaching for his coffee mug; Aaron didn't know it, but he was drinking from Reid's favorite cup, the blue one with two chips on the right side of the rim. "Do me a big favor and don't compare yourself to a machine, it makes me feel less strange. I like you just fine as Spencer Reid, human being."_

_Reid felt his face grow warm, and he resisted rubbing his cheeks to make the telling color go away. He stared at the coffee cup in his hands for a long time before he could bring himself to look up at Aaron again._

_"I, um. Yeah, okay."_

The thing about having a near-perfect memory is that everything's stuck in your head. Reid settles down in his office with a legal pad in hand. He intends to write a letter to Emily in Lausanne, although she's now calling herself Sophie Careau. He writes:

_Dear Sophie,_

Maybe Reid can tell the truth this time. The truth is much easier to write down because he hasn't much of an imagination.

_It's so nice to finally hear from you._

He writes two pages about how he was teaching at the University of Virginia now, as an assistant professor in the Department of Philosophy, and yes, he had a Ph.D in Philosophy now because he was bored, specializing in something that he really can't shorten into a summary, so he cannot exactly tell her. He likes it here at the campus. It's really a change from working at the BAU. Sometimes, the students he meets are really something.

In conclusion, Reid tells her everything but the truth. He mails off the letter by the end of business and knows that it isn't a mistake.

_Sincerely, Reid_

* * *

><p>Three weeks have passed since Jack's started his semester at college and the voicemail he leaves Aaron gets to be about that old when father and son finally manage to work out two hours of free time on a Wednesday night to have a late dinner at "this really great place off-campus" - rather, a small sushi restaurant owned by one of Troy's friend's uncles. They get a twenty percent discount.<p>

"Be honest," says Jack.

Aaron looks at him, "Excuse me?"

"Did you run a background check on my roommate?"

"No."

"_Dad_."

Aaron sighs, "Yes, I did. But he doesn't have a record. Nothing was sealed. I just don't want you to come home one day tattooed all over."

"_Dad_."

This time, Aaron lets it go. He knows that Jack isn't nearly as infuriated with him as he pretends to be. He waits a tactful minute, and asks, " - How are your classes?"

Jack more or less imitates his gesture and stretches out the pause between them before he gives an answer, "They're good, I'm busy, though. Taking a class on introductory Game Theory. The professor's brilliant."

"Oh?"

"Yeah, it's Dr. Reid. He asked about you."

Aaron Hotchner knows that Spencer Reid, former profiler at the BAU, has turned into an assistant professor in the Philosophy department, a more or less mundane job that keeps him at a desk all day. The only reason he has not yet made tenure is because his social skills are still lacking, and bureaucracies are never kind to people like Reid.

Aaron knows all this. None of this surprises him, and yet. And yet he cannot read his son's expression across the table. Aaron hasn't the slightest idea what this might mean.

"What'd you tell him?"

"Same old same old," Jack picks up a piece of fried shrimp and marinates it in sauce. "That you work too much, and you still think about him."

Aaron opens his mouth, but his son continues speaking for him:

"You think about all your mistakes, Dad. It's how you are."

"Spen - Reid wasn't a mistake."

Jack fixes him with a look that is much too old for eighteen, and reaches for his cup of tea, "Dr. Reid is unhappy." It's not an accusation, but it sounds like one, because it's Aaron who has made Reid unhappy.

Aaron says, "Jack. I can't always be what Spencer needs."

Jack doesn't seem to believe him, "Were you ever what Mom needed?"

"Don't talk about your mother like that." It kind of hurts, but less than he thinks it ought to. Aaron doesn't know what that might mean either.

"I wasn't ever talking about Mom," says Jack, reaching for more shrimp. He waits a beat, and Aaron stays determinedly silent. "Try some of the shrimp. It's really good."

Aaron does. He thinks he's definitely had better shrimp.

A phone goes off, and it isn't Aaron's.

"Hello? Oh, Clo," Jack's face unmistakably lights up. "I'm just...I'm having dinner with my dad." (It's no surprise that he doesn't sound particularly enthusiastic.) " - Can't you call Troy? Look I," he purses his lips tightly, and Aaron imagines looking into a mirror. Jack puts the phone down, "Dad, I think I have to go bail out a friend."

"From where? Jail?"

Jack doesn't look amused, "No, she got ditched at this club."

At least his son is trying to be a good decent person. Aaron nods, "Go."

Jack puts down a twenty-dollar bill as he stands, "Will you at least go talk to Dr. Reid?"

"I'll think about it," Aaron says, and almost means it. No, actually, he means it. He has been thinking about talking to Spencer Reid for years. He can certainly spare the idea some more thought, if only for his son.

* * *

><p>After his disastrous night with Lila, it is no surprise that she doesn't call him again. Reid doesn't call her either, but he thinks it's polite to at least see her off to the airport. He catches her as she is coming off the elevator.<p>

"Spencer," after the the initial shock of his presence wears off, her expression returns to something close to neutral. "How did you know I was leaving?"

"Math," says Reid. She will believe him, "I wanted to apologize. For the last time." He hasn't any idea what he is apologizing about, but he has long since learned to apologize for everything, because that way, he doesn't have any reason to be sorry.

"Oh, Spencer," she takes both of his hands. "You don't have to be sorry."

"All right."

They stand there like that for a long time. Finally, Lila glances at her watch and says, "I have to go." She pauses, as if she expects him to ask her to stay.

Instead, Reid leans forward and kisses her on the cheek, "Goodbye, Lila."

He watches her go, and tries to form words similar to "I'll call you soon -" but the words get stuck in his throat.

* * *

><p>"What's your dad say?" Chloe is waiting on the curb when Jack pulls up. She gets in, and Jack can vaguely smell alcohol.<p>

"He asked if I was bailing a friend out of jail."

She snorts, "That's actually, pretty funny."

"Yeah."

Chloe sets an unexpected hand on his knee and pats it three times, "You're kind of a wonderful person. Can I turn on the radio?"

"Go for it," Jack shrugs. He does not care, either way.

Jack doesn't confirm or deny her statement, because he's only wonderful on his good days and sort of feels like a cheat if he discounts the bad days altogether. Bad country music plays on the way back to the dorms, and he listens to Chloe sing all the words.

* * *

><p>Reid is at the Student Union getting coffee when he bumps into Brightwood, who seems to be in a hurry to get somewhere, "Spencer, are you on your way back to your office?"<p>

Reid stirs cream and sugar into his cup and nods, "I have office hours in a few minutes. Just needed something to keep me going. Why?"

Brightwood is carrying an assortment of files, "I was wondering if you could give these to Angela in her office?" Angela Whitmore is the department secretary. "Also, you have someone waiting for you. I met him on my way here."

"Sure, I can do that." Reid takes the files from her. Then he frowns, "A student?" Why would Brightwood be mentioning the meeting if it had been a student? She knows he has office hours. The statement is redundant.

"Said he was FBI," Brightwood shrugs. She knows somewhat that he used to do work for the bureau, but not any of the finer details. "I thought I would pass that along, just in case it's important."

Reid nearly drops his coffee, "Oh." Before his reaction gives away too much, he quickly turns and tosses over his shoulder, "Thanks for letting me know."

* * *

><p>Angela the secretary shows Aaron to Professor Spencer Reid's office in a lonely corner; it's cramped and reeks of books, stale ink. "You're welcome to wait in here. Dr. Reid probably left to get some coffee, he'll be back soon."<p>

"Thanks," Aaron says.

When Angela leaves, he peruses Reid's bookshelf. A majority of the works on his shelves are French and German. Aaron does not read either of these languages, but he can stumble his way around in Spanish. He spots a thin volume on Thomas Hobbes and pulls it out. At last, something familiar.

"Did you need something?"

Aaron puts the book back where it had been, and turns around to face Spencer Reid. His chest is tight, "Reid -"

"No," Reid's face is resigned and old. Only his eyes have not changed. "No, Hotch."

Aaron watches as the younger man maneuvers around him to get to his desk, his movements stiff and jerky, "I have not said anything."

"But you're here to argue with me," says Reid. "It's what exes do."

"And who told you that?" Aaron finds it hard to believe that Reid is making this postulate out of experience. (And the fact that he's Reid's ex just makes everything so distasteful, but it is not untrue.)

"Television," Reid sits down and cradles his cup of coffee defensively, as if it's some sort of barrier that will keep Aaron at bay. "It's accurate, though."

"I don't watch television."

Reid shrugs, "I get bored."

In spot of himself, Aaron is smiling, "I figured. You got another Ph.D."

"Ha," says Reid. The word just hangs there, incomplete. Then suddenly, he straightens up from his chair again, "Are you here about Prentiss? JJ sent you to tell me, didn't she?"

"You know about Prentiss?"

Reid's voice holds years and years of bitter disappointment, it makes Aaron wince. He looks away, "Of course I know about Emily. She apparently thought I was still part of the team and wrote me."

"Oh," says Aaron, because there isn't anything else.

Reid, restless, stands up from behind his desk and walks to where Aaron is standing. The hand that reaches out to touch Aaron's face has heavily callused fingertips, but he notes that Reid's palm is still smooth.

"Aaron," Reid says his name, tasting it like his coffee. "I -"

Aaron stands frozen to the floor. He finds that it is impossible to move his hands, and thinks in a completely Reid-like manner that he must be having a physiological reaction.

A knock sounds on his door, a boy's voice says, on the other side of the door, "Professor Reid? Do you have a moment?"

Reid's hand drops back to his side, "I have office hours now, Aaron. Please don't come back. I don't want to see you."

"Spencer -" because Reid's name is the only way Aaron knows how to keep him. There are no words, Reid knows them all.

Reid stops, and inhales a deep breath and shows him the door, "Have a good day, Agent Hotchner." There's a smile on his face. The smile is obviously not meant for Aaron, but he savors it anyway, tucking it away along with the other things that should be.

"Goodbye, Dr. Reid."

* * *

><p>Jack thinks that it's utterly unfair that Magnus Carlsen was ranked number one in the world at the age of nineteen. He also thinks that it's unfair that both chess and Dr. Spencer Reid have to so fucking complicated.<p>

"You never told me how you met Dr. Reid," Chloe is supposed to be reading _Pride and Prejudice_for her Literary Adaptations class, but an hour has passed and she's maybe read ten pages, by Jack's generous estimate.

Jack picks up a white pawn from its designated square and rolls it idly between his fingers, "Why do you want to know so much?"

She shrugs, "Because it's something. You don't have to say."

"I don't mind saying," Jack just thinks her curiosity is odd. "When I was six, Dad introduced me to the smartest man in the world." He can't help but smile a little at the memory. "I can't remember what I asked him, but he had the answer in five seconds."

Chloe taps her book thoughtfully against the bridge of her nose, "Do you think he is?"

"Do I think he is what?" Jack puts the pawn down and turns to face her.

"The smartest man in the world."

"He's probably close," Jack shrugs. "But there are a lot of things that Dr. Reid doesn't know, too." He holds out a hand towards her, "Do me a favor and hand me a pencil?"

Chloe does, and turns a page of her book, although she's given up all pretenses of reading. There is a brief pause, "You know, I've always sort of liked chess. I mean, I never knew what was going on, but I like chess. Are you any good?"

"Dr. Reid was the one who taught me how to play," Jack removed one knight and one rook from the board and set them aside. "Of course he kind of made everything unbelievably complicated. But we used to play everyday."

She finally abandons her book all together and crawls onto his bed next to him, her hair brushes against his shoulder. "And then?"

"And then - and then, I wish I knew," Jack sighs.


	4. Chapter 4

**Title**: In Our Other Lives  
><strong>Fandom<strong>: Criminal Minds (2005), (c) Jeff Davis  
><strong>CharactersPairings**: Jack Hotchner; **Aaron Hotchner/Spencer Reid**; Spencer Reid/Lila Archer; Jack Hotchner/OFC; Team; Sean Hotchner; other OCs  
><strong>Genres<strong>: Post-Canon-ish/Drama/Romance/Alternate AU  
><strong>Rating<strong>: R  
><strong>Summary<strong>: [Contains **SPOILERS** up to **SEASON 6**] After a particularly bad case, Hotchner forces Reid into early retirement. Reid takes a position as a philosophy professor at the University of Virginia. Jack Hotchner turns eighteen and decides to show both of them what might have been.

**Note**: also x-posted to livejournal: .com/tag/title%3A%20in%20our%20other%20lives

* * *

><p>"We must be willing to let go of the life we have planned, so as to accept the life that is waiting for us."<p>

Joseph Campbell

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 4<strong>

The weekend after that, Jack goes home. Troy wants the room for a party and Jack's invited, but he has a ten-paged-paper due for Dr. Reid's class the following Tuesday and he's barely halfway done. So he goes home. As usual, Aaron is spending a late night at the office, and before Jack goes to sleep, he makes a sandwich and leaves it out. It's lathered with mustard, just the way Dad likes it.

His mother used to do that a lot, Jack remembers.

On Saturday, Jack is roped by his father into babysitting ten-year-old Henry LaMontagne while his parents go on a well deserved date. He doesn't much mind, Henry is a fairly well-behaved kid who enjoys television a bit too much, but besides keeping an occasional eye on the screen, Jack is pretty much free to peruse his books and write his paper. They only have one mishap that goes like this:

"Henry, your mother told me no sweets before bed."

Bedtime is nine-thirty for Henry on the weekends. Opting to take the "cool babysitter" route, Jack lets the kid stay up a full fifteen minutes later before sending him to the kitchen for a snack.

"But Spencer always lets me have a cookie before bedtime," Henry crosses his arms and looks decidedly unamused.

In Jack's own memory, Dr. Reid has always been Dr. Reid. Never Spencer. Aaron has never allowed it, and Jack has never had a good enough reason to defy his father on that particular rule. So it takes him a minute. Jack takes a moment to rummage through the fridge to find a bag of baby carrots.

"Too bad, have some carrots," he shuts the fridge with a purposeful thump. "And you're just going to have to deal with the fact that I'm not as cool as Doctor - I mean, Spencer." He stumbles over the name, because he has never said it before.

"I don't even like carrots. Spencer didn't like them either," strangely subdued after this outburst, Henry crunches a carrot and taps his fingers impatiently against the table. "D'you know why Spencer quit working with my mom?"

"I haven't asked him," Jack shrugs, trying his hardest not to show any interest. "Maybe I will though." He plucks a carrot from the bag from himself. "Have you asked your Mom?"

"She said she'd tell me when I get older," Henry says. "You should ask her, you're old." The boy stands abruptly, pushing the bag away. "I'm going to bed now."

"Do you want me to come up with you?"

"I'm _ten_," Henry rolls his eyes and goes upstairs.

* * *

><p>David Rossi has had three wives. Every time he tells the story, the details get steadily more gruesome, but he cheerfully chalks it up to an occupational hazard. Aaron thinks that if Reid were here, the man would have blamed transference.<p>

He's in the middle of filling out some reports when Rossi raps on his door, "How much longer are you going to be?"

Aaron is exhausted, "I'm...I'm going to be a while."

"Good," the older man enters the room with two glasses of something alcoholic. Aaron thinks he smells whiskey, "You can have a drink with me, then."

Vaguely, Aaron wonders if everyone on the team is taking turns playing shrink. If this is true, then Rossi has at least got the right idea, "Thanks."

Rossi settles himself in a chair and sets his own glass on his knee.

Aaron is determined to not speak until spoken to. It makes him seem a little less foolish.

Finally, Rossi gives a pointed cough and says, "Hotch, I have three ex-wives."

It takes considerable effort to not to counter that redundancy with something like, _Well, good for you. I have one dead wife_. Aaron just waits for Rossi to finish. In the meantime, he sips whiskey.

"It took me three tries to figure it out, but I don't have the patience for that sort of thing. Making time for everything to work. You're always in this office, but you're at least - you find time to make it work. You have the ability to care about people. You shouldn't let that go to waste. It's not something I think I could ever manage."

"What are you saying?"

"I'm saying," Rossi downs the rest of his glass and changes his sentence halfway. "What happened in Colorado wasn't your fault. You made the best call you could." He raises his empty glass and gestures, "...Would you like another?"

"No, thank you."

* * *

><p>When Henry's parents return, it's about eleven and Jack is putting finishing touches on his concluding paragraph. He has paid more than enough attention to this endgame.<p>

"Jack," JJ is getting out her wallet. "I can't thank you enough for watching Henry for us on such short notice. I hope he behaved." JJ has always been JJ for as long as Jack can remember, he tried to call her Ms. Jeareau once and nearly got his head bitten off (albeit politely).

"Oh, yeah," Jack nods. "Henry was fine. He just watched television, finished his homework."

"That's good," JJ's worried expression smoothes out considerably. "I usually get Spencer to sit for us, but he said he was going to be out of town this weekend." She's holding out two bills, a twenty, and a ten. "Is this all right?"

Jack doesn't feel like taking her money, but doesn't feel like arguing with her either. He takes the money and pockets it, "Thanks." He turns to leave, then doubles back, deciding to make the most of the evening before he completely loses his nerve, "JJ?"

"Yes, Jack?"

"Did my dad fire Dr. Reid?"

For a long time, JJ does not answer. "I think," she says very slowly, like she's gauging the media's reaction at a crucial press conference, "I think that's something you have to ask your father for yourself."

"He won't even talk to Dr. Reid."

JJ touches his shoulder, in a motherly sort of way, a way that Jack almost misses, "Spencer is angry at your father, Jack. It's not the kind of anger that goes away. It stays. Leave it alone." She guides him out of the door, "Come on, I'll walk you to your car."

* * *

><p>Spencer Reid is spending the weekend alone with a pack of cigarettes and the complete DVD box set of some soap opera that comes highly recommended on his favorite blog. The acting is mediocre, the script horribly bland, but it's something to do. He is sick of reading. He's also sick of thinking, and even more disgusted with everything else that might come along with thinking.<p>

It is a ridiculous way to spend a weekend.

_When he arrived at the coffee shop, Reid spotted Haley Madison-Hotchner at a corner table. He walked over to join her. She does not appear to be happy to see him, but he appreciated her effort to seem otherwise. "Spencer, hello. Would you like something to drink?"_

_"I'm not thirsty," he shook his head. "No, thank you."_

_"Have something to drink," she repeated, this time not in the form of a question._

_Reid gave up and ordered a small cup of cranberry juice. Once he sat down again, he noted Haley fidgeting with her napkin, although she wasn't eating anything. He waited._

_"Aaron and I are getting a divorce."_

_Reid choked on his drink, "But why?" He thought he knew why, but it couldn't be true, could it?_

_Haley laughed, "Dr. Reid, I thought you were smarter than that?"_

_The insult stung, just like Reid suspected that it ought to, although to be honest, he wasn't quite sure, "I don't understand."_

_Haley is drinking something green and organic-looking. That was probably why in Reid's eyes, she never seemed to age while Hotch grew older and more morose every day._

_"Aaron has this need to protect things. To protect people. He told me about you, how you've already been through so much -" she broke off and inhaled deeply. "And you work with him, you'll see things about him that he never lets me see because he wants to protect me. It's unfair, it's unfair to me, and it's unfair to Jack. You've been camped out in our living room for the last three months. You aren't his mother."_

_Reid still didn't completely understand, but his chest ached, "I know that. Don't divorce Aaron, Haley, please."_

_"Would you be okay with what you're doing if we're not divorced?" She was asking him, as if she knew everything. Given how angry she was, Haley probably did know everything. "You're all right with being the way you are with my husband, knowing that he is married."_

_"I'm not having an affair with Aaron - with Hotch," said Reid, using a word that he'd only heard used in overly-dramatic movies, it was such a strange word that meant too much. "I'd never do that to you."_

_He could see it in her eyes that she believed him, but it didn't make her any less angry. It simply wasn't fair, "I don't want to divorce Aaron." Her voice was very soft and not completely steady, "It's not good for Jack."_

_"Then don't," Reid said. He couldn't explain of it, but he knew he'd never forgive himself if -_

_"But it's not my call," Haley shrugged. "Aaron's the one who asked me for a divorce, Spencer." (This is what you've done to us. This is what you've done to me, you with all your good brilliant intentions.)_

_Perhaps even_

_(Fuck you.)_

_The silence between is thick and heavy, until it faded away and quietly died. Reid got to his feet, "I've - I've got to get back to the office." He gestured at her near empty cup, "Would you like me to throw that away?"_

_She nodded, tilting her head forward a miniscule inch, she might have even said something like, "Thank you."_

_Whatever it was, Reid took the invitation, grabbed the empty cup, and practically ran._

When Reid wakes up again, the credits to the season finale is rolling, and he realizes he has fallen off the couch. Out of habit, he checks his phone for messages. There are none. He doesn't expect anything less.

* * *

><p>Aaron comes home at more or less two in the morning and finds Jack still awake. Jack seems to have fixed himself a cup of coffee and he's staring intently at a chessboard, and he also has his laptop open. He's so engrossed in his task that Aaron has to knock against the wall twice to get his son's attention.<p>

"What are you still doing up?"

Jack's head snaps up, and he looks irrecoverably guilty, "Um." His mouth opens and closes several times before he says, "It's the weekend? And I finished my paper while I was sitting Henry. There's a sandwich in the kitchen, if you want it."

"I'll get to the sandwich in a minute," says Aaron, shrugging off his coat. "What are you doing?" The question bears repeating, especially if asking it once did not give him a satisfactory answer.

"Playing chess," Jack says, obviously trying to be as shorthanded as possible.

For a brief moment, Aaron feels afraid, "With who?"

"I dunno," Jack reaches over and knocks a white pawn off the board with a bishop. "Some guy, on the Internet." He makes a big deal of squinting at his screen, "Screen name's Hammerboi6."

Aaron joins Jack at the other side of the coffee table. Jack's username is made up of binary numbers. He thinks that Reid would have been proud and quickly puts the thought out of his mind. One thought too often leads to another.

Though Aaron has never gotten a handle on the game sitting on one side of the board or another, he's gotten to be a good neutral observer, all things considered, "He's not very good, is he?"

"Nope, checkmate in two."

A moment later, the word _Checkmate _flashes across the screen. Jack shuts his laptop resolutely with a click not long after that, "Dad."

"Yes?"

Years and years of profiling unsubs (and perhaps less being a father) have taught Aaron to expect the worst. Instead, Jack stands and picks up his laptop, "You should go eat your sandwich, I don't want it to go bad. I'm going to bed now."

Jack is halfway up the stairs when Aaron finds the courage to say, "You should play chess with a little more imagination." Only because Jack has learned from someone who has memorized too many rules.

The boy - because his son Jack will never be anything but a boy, a boy with his mother's lovely eyes - asks him with naked curiosity, "Who told you that?"

Aaron turns away so that Jack could not see his face, "An old friend. Good night, Jack."

* * *

><p>The previous tenant who rented Reid's apartment before him was apparently a renowned conspiracy theorist. Paranoia is obviously part of the package, and the only remaining remnants of that is a safe built inside the closet wall.<p>

He keeps one thing in the safe. A letter over a decade old.

Reid folds up the letter again in four neat creases and decides that he hates them both.

* * *

><p>On a Wednesday afternoon, Jack knocks on Dr. Reid's door armed with his chess set and a week and a half more worth's of experience and Aaron's strange advice.<p>

It takes Dr. Reid a long moment to open his door. His eyes look tired as if Jack has interrupted him from a nap, "Hello, Jack. I'm not exactly up for a game."

"...Are you sick?" Jack peers at him with some concern.

"I -" Dr. Reid rubs the bridge of his nose, "I may be coming down with a cold, I don't know."

"We don't have to play right now," says Jack. "But can I come in?"

Dr. Reid nods, "Sure. Make yourself at home." He steps back into his office and makes his way behind his desk, "You can just move the books." There are a stack of books on the only vacant chair in the room. "I'm doing some reorganizing."

Now that Jack is completely inside the office, he notes that the office looks like the aftermath of a record hurricane. He moves the books and sets them in a neat pile on the floor as per Dr. Reid's instructions.

"Um, are you okay?" He doesn't understand why Dr. Reid would feel the need to reorganize his office. The last time he was here, Jack distinctly remembers this space being more than immaculate.

"I'm fine," Dr. Reid rubs the back of his neck.

Jack bites back, _Are you sure?_just like his father, and fishes in his pocket for a piece of gum to keep busy. He's been hanging around Chloe too much, "Okay. Okay."

A silence passes. Finally, Reid drums his fingers on his desk in a soft rhythm, "How are your other classes?"

Without thinking, Jack says, "You sound like Dad." Then he shrugs, "But they're fine, I guess. Your class kind of makes everything easy."

"Yeah?" Dr. Reid looks amused, if anything, but Jack can't tell whether he is pleased.

"The paper that you assigned for Tuesday took me forever to finish, though."

Now Dr. Reid laughed, but somehow the laughter feels forced, "If it's any consolation, I graded your paper first and found your endgame airtight."

"College professors shouldn't play favorites," Jack says, but he's grinning.

"I admire meritocracy," Dr. Reid stops drumming on the desk, and the grin to mirror Jack's own is noticeably smoother. "That is all. I don't play favorites. Never learned how." He makes a point of glancing at his watch.

Jack starts, "Do you have -"

"No," the man shakes his head. "I thought I had an appointment, but that's on Friday. Would you like to take a walk with me? I could use a smoke."

Jack blinks, "I um, I have class in an hour, but sure." He is certain that Dr. Reid is lying, but curiosity is reason for all things.

"You can leave your things in here, I'm locking my office."

Jack watches him lock his door, and follows him down the stairs, out the door. Dr. Reid nods an awkward hello to one or two professors who Jack doesn't recognize, but notes that the man stays quiet.

When they are out the door, Jack watches Dr. Reid calculate twenty feet with his footsteps, and he wonders, as a bright short flame licks the end of a new cigarette, if Aaron knows of Dr. Reid's new vices.

"You don't mind, do you?"

Jack shakes himself and decides to stop staring, "The smoke? No, I don't. My friends smoke."

"Aren't you going to ask me why?"

"I dunno, are you going to answer?" There is no point in asking a question with no answer.

Dr. Reid takes a long inhale from his cigarette and takes great care to blow smoke in the other direction. "That'd depends, you know."

Jack decides against a rhetorical question and waits. He follows Dr. Reid as they fall into one of the main sidewalks, leading to the Student Union. There are hardly any people around.

"What did Dad ever do to you?" Jack blurts out the question, only because he forgets to think.

Dr. Reid has a delayed reaction of several milliseconds and promptly chokes on smoke. He hacks loudly, and perhaps not for the first time, Jack finally sees the bitter lines lining his face, "Aaron didn't do anything to me. I left the Bureau on my own."

His fists are clenched, and of all the vague memories that Jack Hotchner has of his beloved Dr. Reid, he remembers most clearly that despite being the smartest man in the world, Dr. Reid can't tell a lie.

"Dr. Reid, whatever Dad did. I'm sorry."

Now Dr. Reid won't look at him, "Did Aaron tell you?" His voice is soft and heavy.

"No, Dad never tells me anything, of course he never told me why you left and never came back." Jack says. "I just -" he breaks off when he suddenly realizes that his voice is shaking. He swallows hard, "Never mind, I think...I think I'll go meet Chloe for coffee or something."

"Jack, wait."

Jack almost does. If he waits, he will learn secrets of two very bitter people, and perhaps a thing or two about loneliness or anger. But he doesn't.

* * *

><p>Because Aaron Hotchner is his father, Jack can't.<p>

Chloe doesn't really understand it, and Jack can't explain it to her because he doesn't get it either. But she holds him and she's warm.

That is enough. Jack decides he doesn't want anything else.


	5. Chapter 5

**Title**: In Our Other Lives  
><strong>Fandom<strong>: Criminal Minds (2005), (c) Jeff Davis  
><strong>CharactersPairings**: Jack Hotchner; **Aaron Hotchner/Spencer Reid**; Spencer Reid/Lila Archer; Jack Hotchner/OFC; Team; Sean Hotchner; other OCs  
><strong>Genres<strong>: Post-Canon-ish/Drama/Romance/Alternate AU  
><strong>Rating<strong>: R  
><strong>Summary<strong>: [Contains **SPOILERS** up to **SEASON 6**] After a particularly bad case, Hotchner forces Reid into early retirement. Reid takes a position as a philosophy professor at the University of Virginia. Jack Hotchner turns eighteen and decides to show both of them what might have been.

* * *

><p>"Man is least himself when he talks in his own person. Give him a mask, and he will tell you the truth."<p>

-Oscar Wilde

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 5<strong>

_Reid liked JJ. In fact, he used to have a crush on her. A fact that Gideon caught on to and exploited mercilessly whenever he had the chance. And had the circumstances been different, he might have told her. But now that she had Will, and Henry, he doubted that she'd be able to offer a balanced perspective. He'd done his research beforehand, Emily Prentiss was in between relationships, and she didn't do one-night stands._

_"Reid, what's this about?"_

_They were holding matching coffee cups, but Emily was drinking water. She was trying to wean off of caffeine, and Reid thought she was insane; he even told her so. "You have to promise me you won't tell anyone."_

_"Of course," Emily nodded, but her eyes were wide with obvious concern. "Reid, what's wrong?"_

_He wrung the edge of his sleeve, picking on a loose thread, "I um. I think I'm having an affair with Hotch."_

As he waits for the phone to stop ringing. Reid paces a tight circle around his office, stepping over books.

_"You're having a -"_ _Emily stared at him. "I'm sorry, did you just tell me you're having an affair with Hotch?" _

_Reid nodded, "Or at least, I think I am. I've never had an affair before. So." He felt strangely miserable, but the misery wasn't something he could bring himself to translate into actual words. _

_Emily's expression was a jumble. She looked like she wanted to laugh, but then something like regret flitted across her face too, "Spencer." _

_She'd never called him Spencer before. Reid wondered why, perhaps it was because because the word "Reid" only had one syllable and despite the d-sound at the end causing some inconvenience, it was easier. He thought about asking her, but then she spoke again._

_"Maybe we should sit down," so saying, Emily led him over to one of the park benches. Reid followed, and took only a little offense at her tone. He was a lot of things, but he was definitely not a five-year-old on the verge of a loud tantrum. _

_They sat down. _

_"You can tell me anything you'd like," Emily said, although she wasn't quite looking at him. "I'll listen." _

The ringing finally stops with a click. Reid's breathing more or less stops with the ringing to keep it company. He waits, and gets Aaron's voicemail.

_This is SSA Aaron Hotchner. Please leave your name and number so I can reach you when I am able. Thank you._

Reid grips the phone tight, "This is Spencer. Call me if you want." It's rude to hang out without a goodbye, but Reid thinks he desperately needs the practice.

* * *

><p>"We can conclude that this unsub's cooling off period is rapidly decreasing, and the Oklahoma City PD is asking us for help -" JJ pauses as someone's phone goes off. Aaron thinks about glaring politely at the perpetrator, except he realizes quickly enough that he can't exactly glare at himself.<p>

He shuts off his phone and lets the call go to voicemail.

"Wheels' up in thirty. See you then."

In the privacy of his office, Aaron checks his phone. The message he finds is short and to the point, but he feels like someone has suddenly took to his chest with a heavy sledgehammer:

_"This is Spencer. Call me if you want."_

Aaron does want. He wants so many things he cannot have. He deletes the message after listening to it three more times. It is much easier this way. He is so tired, and just this once...things can be easy. Aaron rubs at his eyes, the heavy thud of a bad headache is pounding steadily at the back of his head.

_Reid's hand slams down on his desk, making him flinch, "Answer me, Aaron."_

_Aaron said nothing. There was not much that he could have said. There was nothing left but foolish words that meant very little. Aaron Hotchner was a man who desperately wanted to be wise._

_"Yes, yes I asked Haley for a divorce. But not because of you."_

_He wasn't sure if it was the answer that he gave, but Aaron noted a slump in Reid's shoulders and the anger seemed to have gone out of the young man like a punctured balloon quickly losing air, "I know. Because it's always like that."_

_"What do you mean?"_

_"I mean," Reid clenched his fists, and then he unclenched them. "Why, then?"_

_Spencer Reid was such a boy. A boy who knew too much, and at the same time, he was a boy that knew next to nothing about how the world really worked, "We need some time away from each other. She has some things to think about, and so do I."_

_Reid said, "Can't you think about things without getting divorced? You're hardly home to begin with."_

_He reached to touch the side of Reid's face, and the man slipped easily out of his reach, "Never mind. I should mind my own business. D'you want some coffee? I was about to get some. Just cream, right?" He abruptly turns, slamming the door behind him._

_"Spencer -"_

_Reid didn't look back._

His cell phone goes off again, and Aaron nearly upsets himself from his chair, but it isn't Reid, it's Garcia. He's relieved, and hidden in that relief somewhere is disappointment. He tries not think about that, "Garcia. What'd you find?"

"Lions and tigers and bears oh my," Garcia quips from the other end. "I know we're not in the right state, sir, but Oklahoma's close enough to Kansas. You've got to see this. I'm going to beam it to everyone on the plane, but I thought I'd give you a heads up..."

"I have a little time," says Aaron. "I'll drop by in a minute."

"Standing by, sir." There is a dull click.

* * *

><p>Chloe is curled up next to him on his bed, Jack can smell gum on her breath, maybe something close to citrus, "Jack."<p>

"Yeah?"

"Can I tell you about my parents?"

Jack thinks of his own parents, of his mother dead in the ground and his distant father who spends more time on a plane than anywhere else, and the fucking too-complicated Dr. Reid who seems to want to be everything at once - he is almost smart enough for it too.

"Yeah, if you want."

"My mom drank a lot," she traces her fingers on his elbow. "My dad has a girlfriend who kind of looks like me. We could be sisters. I met her once." Her voice is not quite steady, and she turns away so Jack can't see her face. He doesn't try to stop her.

Jack kisses her scalp and holds her tighter, "I'm sorry."

_"Dr. Reid, what are you doing?"_

_There was yelling coming from upstairs, Jack wanted to go up to his room, but he knew better than to go up there when his parents were yelling at each other. Dr. Reid was folding up the air mattress and there was an open suitcase._

_"Why are Mommy and Daddy fighting?"_

_Dr. Reid stopped folding shirts and looked at him, "...I made your parents mad. I'm sorry."_

_Jack knelt next to him, "Did you break something?" He recalled that his mother always got so upset when something broke. In Jack's mind, Dr. Reid was too old to make such a mistake, but he couldn't think of another reason._

_"Something like that, I guess."_

_"If you say sorry," Jack said, "they'll forgive you. They always forgive me."_

_Dr. Reid's face seemed to crumple up like a piece of paper, and he looked away from Jack, "I broke something very important."_

_Jack's own face crinkled up in deep concentration, "Then it will probably take a few days before they forgive you. And you have to apologize extra hard."_

_"I'll be sure to do that, apologize extra hard," Dr. Reid closed his suitcase and stood up. He wore a wobbly smile, and Jack wondered if he was going to start crying. He looks like he needs a hug._

_"Where are you going?"_

_Dr. Reid set a hand on Jack's head. It felt strange and old. It was a hand that knew all things, Jack shut his eyes tight, "A long walk, I think."_

_"Can you come back to play me chess tonight? Please?"_

_"It depends," said the man. "Will you apologize extra hard for your mother for me?"_

_"I can do that," Jack nodded solemnly, "I promise."_

_Later, after Dr. Reid let himself out, when Mommy and Daddy came downstairs, they were very quiet and not looking at each other. Jack was on the couch thumbing through a book. It was a book that Dr. Reid recommended, called Flowers for Algernon, he didn't understand some of it, but it was interesting. Mommy had borrowed a copy for him from the public library two blocks away._

_"Jack," said Daddy. "Where is Dr. Reid?"_

_"He left to take a long walk," Jack said. "And he wanted me to apologize very hard to Mommy. He really is very sorry. He told me he broke something important." To give his claim even more weight, Jack got up from the couch and walked over to take his mother's hands._

_"He's really sorry. And he's afraid you won't forgive him. Can you please forgive him?"_

_Mommy's hands turned very white, her face turned very white too, and she stepped away from Jack. "Oh, honey."_

_"Aaron," then her voice was soft, and Jack covered his ears. When she used that tone, he knew the words weren't meant for him, but he heard them anyway. "Go."_

_"Haley, we've talked about this."_

_"Spencer is not going to wait while we talk, I'm not stupid, Aaron," Mommy's voice was shaky. Jack squeezed his eyes shut, because he did not want his mother to sound like that. "You will always resent me. And I love you enough."_

_"Haley."_

_Mommy took his hand, "Come on, Jack, let's go to your room."_

_She was holding his hand too tight, but Jack knew better than to say anything about that, "But where's Daddy going?"_

_"Daddy's going for a long walk, too," she gave his hand a gentle tug. "Come on, sweetie."_

* * *

><p>They land in Oklahoma City an hour late because of turbulence and a storm. The police officers on standby to drive them to their hotel aren't the most friendly nor the most helpful considering the circumstances, but Aaron understands. By the time he gets settled in his room, he cannot even bring himself to walk ten feet to the bathroom for a shower. He opts to shower in the morning.<p>

Even though Reid's message is brief, short, and lost in techno-oblivion, Aaron can hear the words clearly in his head. Before he can turn to logic and change his mind, he dials Reid's number and waits.

"Hello?"

Aaron inhales a deep breath for courage, and he instinctively wishes he'd had something stronger to give him such courage, "I meant to call earlier, you caught me in the middle of a briefing."

There is a long pause, "I haven't been out of work that long, Hotch. You don't need to lie to me."

The reply stings like it's supposed to, and Aaron has to take a minute, "Well, I was going to call you."

"I'm glad you called."

Aaron can't tell if he is being sincere or not, but then he remembers that Spencer Reid has never learned to be anything outside of sincere. He finds that he isn't quite sure what to say.

Reid says, "Are you at home?"

"No, I'm in Oklahoma City, on a case. Three children were abducted, we were called in. It's storming." This conversation, although it will ultimately not get anywhere, already feels warm and familiar. Both of them are good about talking about work, and consequently, they are not good about talking about any of the other things that matter.

"Abducted children don't typically make it past the first twenty-four hours," says Reid (sounding like a typical Google search result, thinks Aaron). "The fortunate ones have forty-eight, maybe less."

"You've told us that a thousand times - no, that's not an invitation for you to give me the actual number, but I remember."

Reid laughs, an unexpectedly cheerful burst of sound, "I don't have an exact number. But it is probably less than a thousand." And then he stops laughing, maybe because while he doesn't recall exact statistics, he remembers that this isn't exactly a social call.

Aaron says, "Reid." And he stops, and starts again, "Spencer." ('How's your leg?' is something he wants to ask, but can't quite manage. It sounds too friendly and personal, and strange.)

"I don't know how to tell a lie."

"That makes one of us," says Aaron, telling the truth.

Now Spencer's laugh is short and bitter, almost recognizable again, "But that's good, isn't it? We're states apart. Maybe we can try to have a honest conversation for once in our lives."

Aaron wants to reach for him, wherever he is, hold him close, stroke his hair and tell him that is simply not true. But he knows that it isn't.

"Aaron."

Aaron goes to the bar and decides on a shot of hard brandy. He pictures Spencer's frown, and isn't as deterred as he ought to be. "Yes, Spencer?"

"Do you miss me?"

The liquor catches in his throat and the burning sensation left there is sharp. Perhaps a fitting reminder, "Every day."

* * *

><p>Aaron misses him. Every day. The back of Reid's eyes suddenly feel very hot. He wonders whether Aaron might be lying, if he is, it sounds close enough to be the truth. It has to be the truth.<p>

"Your son asked me today, why he was left," Reid says slowly, likening this conversation like the dismantling of a complicated bomb. "After he apologized for whatever you did. That's a quote, by the way."

There's only a slight pause.

"And what did you tell Jack?" Aaron is very good at keeping his voice even, it is his face he cannot keep still. Reid squeezes his eyes shut and imagines Aaron looking vaguely displeased, slightly bewildered. He is not a man of many emotions, but that doesn't even matter because most of his emotions are dreadfully complex, and that's supposed to make up for things.

"You're his father, and you're a better liar than I am. I was hoping that you'd tell me." His retort comes out sharper than he intends it to be.

"Spencer."

Reid hangs up. He doesn't want to hear the answer, if Aaron even has one. He hates that Aaron always seems to have answers for every damn thing. Especially when the topic in question doesn't have a rational answer tucked away in a textbook someplace.

He feels like such a child. Aaron always makes him feel like a child.

The rest of Reid's evening is spent on eating Chinese Takeout from Wang's Dragon Diner, essays, and very occasional glances at his phone. It doesn't ring again, and Reid is certainly not surprised.

"I miss you too," Reid tastes the words own his tongue, as if experimenting on a new flavor of ice cream. "Let's try again." (Although we failed disastrously last time and -)

It doesn't sound at all convincing.

* * *

><p><em>Aaron and Hayley's court date was on a Friday morning, a nice day in June. That, Reid distinctively remembered. Jack's term had just ended, and it was Haley who drove the boy over to Reid's apartment early. The Hotchners had made the executive decision that Jack wasn't to be present in any legal proceedings. They wanted to stay his parents, and in the courtroom, they could very possibly become something altogether.<em>

_"Hi, Dr. Reid!" Jack greeted him brightly when he opened the door. Reid's own expression wasn't nearly as cheery. In fact, he suspected he looked quite miserable, because the boy took one of his hands and tugged on it, "Did you dream about monsters? Monsters can't hurt you now, it's daytime!"_

_"Haley."_

_"Don't ask me not to," she said, looking so proud and dignified that Reid knew without a doubt why she was Aaron's wife. "Because I have. It does not mean that I love him any less. I don't think you'll understand for a long time. I'll be back for Jack around two. Thank you, Spencer."_

_She walked away. Reid could not even look at her back. The 'you're welcome' he had planned got only halfway out, then lost in the loud hum of her car engine fading away._

_"Mommy said that she didn't want to live with Daddy anymore," Jack said, his face the very definition of childish remorse. "But she loves him very much. She's not what Daddy needs right now."_

_Reid pulled Jack into an awkward hug and kept him there, until he squirmed away and rubbed his shoulders with a grimace._

_"That hurts."_

_"I'm sorry."_

_" 'S okay," Jack shrugged. "Can I have something to eat? I'm hungry."_

_Jack bounded into his apartment and made a beeline for the kitchen. Reid followed at a more sedate pace and made sure to lock the door out of sheer paranoia, "I have popcorn, granola bars, leftover takeout."_

_"Why do you have so much old people food?" Jack wrinkled his nose at all of Reid's suggestions._

_'Popcorn' was now categorized old people food. This was news. Reid laughed a little, "Because I am. Old, I guess. How about ice cream? We can take a walk." There was an old-fashioned ice cream parlor around the block that he used to frequent._

_Jack seemed to think this over, "Okay. Only if you promise to cheer up?" He fixed Reid with a very serious frown, "You look so sad."_

_Reid was sad, but then again, it was so much more complicated than that, "I'll try," he put on a brave smile as Jack took his hand. "It'd probably take a while, though."_


	6. Chapter 6

**Title**: In Our Other Lives  
><strong>Fandom<strong>: Criminal Minds (2005), (c) Jeff Davis  
><strong>CharactersPairings**: Jack Hotchner; **Aaron Hotchner/Spencer Reid**; Spencer Reid/Lila Archer; Jack Hotchner/OFC; Team; Sean Hotchner; other OCs  
><strong>Genres<strong>: Post-Canon-ish/Drama/Romance/Alternate AU  
><strong>Rating<strong>: R  
><strong>Summary<strong>: [Contains **SPOILERS** up to **SEASON 6**] After a particularly bad case, Hotchner forces Reid into early retirement. Reid takes a position as a philosophy professor at the University of Virginia. Jack Hotchner turns eighteen and decides to show both of them what might have been.

* * *

><p>"May those who love us, love us; and those who don't love us, may God turn their hearts; and if He doesn't turn their hearts, may he turn their ankles so we'll know them by their limping."<p>

-Irish Blessing_  
><em>

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 6<strong>_  
><em>  
>Not because Aaron tells him to in specific words, because his father loves specifics, specifics are not something that can ever be misinterpreted. Or so Aaron thinks. Dr. Reid likes specifics too, and he is sure that between the two of them, they've at least racked up quite a rap sheet between them.<p>

Aaron doesn't tell him to, but Jack takes the time to visit his mother once every two months with her favorite flowers. He can't stand to go more than that, and he usually goes alone armed with a bouquet of orchids for company.

This time, he takes Chloe with him. She still doesn't know how his mother died, and Jack doesn't think he will ever tell her, but she knows what's important. Chloe knows that Haley Madison-Hotchner is a brave woman. That is all, and she doesn't ask questions.

(Jack never asks questions, either.)

"Don't you have a paper to do?"

She laughs, "So you ask me when you've already driven an hour." Chloe waves a book in his face. J.R.R. Tolkien's_ _Lord of the Rings: Fellowship of the Ring_. _"...If you need a moment, I have a book." Then she waves a pen, "I'm taking notes, too."  
><em><br>_"Just a few minutes," he says.

"Take all the time you need."

"Thanks," Jack gets out of the car. Clutching the bouquet close, he stops in front of his mother's tombstone. Haley Madison-Hotchner, Beloved Mother, Sister, and Wife. In that order, it's alphabetical.

"Hi Mom."

Jack spots a wilted orchid petal on the grass and thinks that his father must have been here recently, but not too recently, because the petal is brown and dry. He puts down his bouquet, very careful not to wrinkle any of the flowers.

"Sorry I haven't been by in a long time. School got busy. I miss you a lot. You should have been here to help me move in. Dad wasn't very helpful. Uncle Sean was, though," Jack stands up again. "I'm having fun at college, but Dad ran a background check on my roommate." He wrinkles his nose, and imagines his mother doing the exact same thing.

"Dad's trying really hard though. I have Dr. Reid as one of my professors, his class is sort of insane. But I think he's playing favorites because I'm passing." (Although apparently Dr. Reid has never learned how to play favorites.)

Jack takes a deep breath and smiles, "I really wish you were here. Next time, I'll let you meet Chloe. She's a nice girl. I think I might like her."

And he walks away. There are questions he could have asked her. But he never does.

Once he gets back into the car, Chloe touches him on the shoulder, " - Okay?" She says, very softly.

"Okay," Jack repeats after her, only a little uncertain, and she smiles. He starts up the car and they hold hands on the way back.

* * *

><p><em>"How long are you going to follow me home every day?" If anything, Reid looked rightfully irritated as he yanked his key out of his pocket, "You're worse than Gideon. I've been going to my meetings, and I've been going to therapy. What else do you want from me, Hotch?"<em>

_Aaron paused, "Are you okay by yourself?"_

_"I'm not a kid," Reid more or less kicked his door open._

_Reid sounded like one, Aaron thought, but did not argue. As the younger man did not slam the door in his face, he followed Reid inside. "I never said you were. I meant -" He paused, watching Reid pour mango juice into a cup. Afterwards, he put the carton back into his fridge, which looked mostly empty._

_Reid saw him looking, "Do you want some?" It was a peace offering, sort of._

_"I'm allergic to mango," said Aaron. "I know you buy organic."_

_"Only organic juice. Balances out all the TV dinners, cans et cetera. Some water, then?" Before Aaron could give an answer, Reid handed him a cup of water, which he had to take. "What do you mean?" Of course he hadn't forgotten about Aaron's half finished sentence from earlier._

_"I meant," Aaron paused. He meant to choose his words carefully, but the very same words came out, "Are you okay, by yourself?"_

_Reid seemed to deflate a little. He sank down into a chair and turned his face deliberately away from Aaron, "I will be soon. I think." It was an outright lie and they both knew it._

_"Gideon is here, and I'm here, you know that," Aaron stepped forward so he stood next to Reid's chair. He didn't touch him._

_To his surprise, Reid took his hand and held it too tightly, "I know. But."_

_"Reid."_

_"I have to sleep with the lights on every night," Reid said, his eyes dark with things that Aaron never wanted to know about. "I feel like I'm seven. It's pathetic." Then in a small voice, he added, "Don't tell Gideon?"_

_Aaron smiled just a little, "Our secret."_

Gideon and I are here, Aaron remembers saying. He doesn't remember if it's those exact words, but accuracy isn't the point. The point is that neither of them are.

Mrs. Ida Calloway is a young mother who is ready to grieve. She is generally an optimist, but she knows the chances are slim. Her daughter Elizabeth is eight, and was abducted walking home from the bus stop, not even a half block away, ten hours ago.

"I should have been there," she dabs her eyes with a tissue. "I should have been there to walk her home. I always do, you know? And then I just got, I got so busy and I figured -" she breaks off again and JJ touches her shoulder. "I should have been there."

JJ says, "We'll do everything we can to find your daughter, Mrs. Calloway. Do you mind if Agent Hotchner and Agent Morgan take a look inside Elizabeth's room? I will stay here with you."

"Anything...anything I can do to help," says Mrs. Calloway, and she makes a gesture. "The first door to your right, down that hallway. That's Lizzie's room."

"-Hotch, you coming?"

Aaron rises quickly from his place on the couch and gives Mrs. Calloway a pat on the shoulder, "It isn't your fault."

(Because it isn't.) 

* * *

><p>Reid's leg hurts when it rains. It's mostly a psychological reaction now, but doctors assure him that given the trauma he's been through, the pain will probably never go away. Which is really helpful, since he refuses all painkillers out of principle.<p>

Dr. Gregory is certainly understanding, but not very helpful. He probably has a son about Reid's age and feels sorry for him, "Painkillers will help you, Dr. Reid. Addiction is certainly not an impossibility, but if you're responsible about it, they will help you."

"I don't want to," says Reid. "Personal reasons."

Dr. Gregory says, "Dr. Reid." (In the same way that Aaron always says "Reid" when he is mildly displeased.)

Reid stands, "Thank you, Dr. Gregory."

* * *

><p>The stabbing pain in his leg, the rain, and the fact that Reid seems to be annoyed at everything today makes driving thirty minutes difficult. When he limps into the nondescript coffee shop, he forgives Derek Morgan a little bit, because the man has bought him a giant cup of coffee, still steaming hot, with too much sugar.<p>

"It's been a while," says Morgan, and then his face shifts to obvious concern. "How's your leg?"

"It's bothering me today," Reid shrugs. "But it's fine." He slips into the booth across from the man, "How was Oklahoma City?"

"Taxing. There was no tornado, Garcia was disappointed. Apparently she was looking forward to making more Wizard of Oz puns," Morgan takes a bite of his cherry-looking pastry.

"I hope she was kidding," Reid is positive, but he wants to be absolutely sure.

"Of course she was," Morgan laughs. "She says hi and she misses you lots. I'll buy that your leg is fine, how's the rest of you?"

Reid takes a moment to think, "My head's fine, although I get headaches sometimes, and I'm eating healthy, and." He stops and notices Morgan's face, "That's not what you mean, is it?"

"Well, you're getting better," Morgan shrugs. "You at least finished before I started. Want to try again?"

"I think I'm doing all right," says Reid. "Honest. I'm trying very hard not to flunk my students. No one trusts me." It bothers him, a little, but not enough to matter. "Do you know I probably should have made tenure by now? I'm more qualified than everyone in my department."

Without missing a beat, Morgan says, "So come back. We haven't found another genius to replace you yet."

"I'm retired," Reid shrugs.

"Rossi retired two times," Morgan reminds him needlessly. "Where are we going to find another walking encyclopedia?"

Reid deadpans, " - You people are seriously looking?"

Morgan leans forward, "I don't know all the details, but apparently Strauss is having people keep tabs on this Yale graduate-to-be. She's in their doctoral program. Of course she's already twenty-four, but still."

"Yale was my safety school," says Reid. His too-sugary coffee suddenly tastes bitter. "What's her dissertation on?"

Morgan clicks a few buttons on his phone and shakes his head, "Garcia forgot to write it down. But she's majoring in Chemistry, she has a Masters in Psychology...Hotch tried to fight Strauss about it. But nothing's final or even in the works yet, so there isn't anything anyone can do. I'm just saying, you should come back while your job's still here. You know Strauss."

A familiar ringtone goes off, and Morgan holds up a finger as he takes the call, "Yeah, Hotch."

A pause.

"I'm not in the middle of anything, but I am -"

Reid makes a grab for the man's wrist and shakes his head violently. Morgan cocks a mildly curious eyebrow at him. "O-kay, never mind. I guess I'm really not doing anything. Yeah. See you in thirty." He hangs up.

"Really." It's not a question, more like a statement of disbelief. "I'm going to Vegas, are you sure you don't want to tag along?"

"No, you go ahead." Reid shakes his head. He is okay here, with his coffee and even the thought that Aaron values him still enough to fight with Erin Strauss. It's not perfect, but he thinks he can go to bed tonight smiling. 

* * *

><p>"What took you so long?" Aaron asks Morgan, as the other man settles into his seat.<p>

"Was driving," says Morgan, sounding noticeably more nonchalant than usual. Aaron wonders if he's been with a woman, but there are no telling marks anywhere on his person as evidence. "I met Reid for coffee."

"Reid?" Aaron does a double take and no one misses it. Suddenly all eyes on the plane are trained on him.

"I told him to come back before Strauss gets that Yale candidate," Morgan shrugs.

Aaron says, "You're not supposed to know about that." And then he remembers, and tucks one stern lecture (maybe two) away for when they return to Quantico again, "- and Reid isn't going to come back."

Morgan says, "How do you know?"

Aaron isn't proud of knowing. Of course he isn't, "I just do." Quickly, he changes the subject. "Let's do a briefing before we touch down. What do we know about this unsub so far?"

No one mentions Reid again. 

* * *

><p><em>"What's this?" Jack stared suspiciously at the box that Dr. Reid handed him. Daddy was smiling too, so the box must have be holding something good, he stopped frowning.<em>

_"It's a chess set," Dr. Reid put the box down on the table and opened it. He took out a board, the kind used for checkers, although it wasn't checkers. "It's chess. It's going to make you smart. My dad gave this to me when I was little too."_

_"Reid," Daddy was frowning now. "Maybe you shouldn't."_

_Dr. Reid shook his head, "I want to, it's okay. I know that Jack will take good care of it, and it will be nice to have someone to play with."_

_"I thought you played with Gideon."_

_"But I always lose," Dr. Reid shrugged. "It's so irritating."_

_Jack looked between Daddy, Dr. Reid, and the checker board that wasn't meant for checkers, but chess, "Will I become as smart as you if I learn to play?" He asked, directing his question to Dr. Reid._

_Daddy laughed and lifted him up, "You've still got a long ways to go, kiddo."_

A few days after visiting his mother, Jack remembers that Dr. Reid's chess set is still in Dr. Reid's office. It takes him a few more days to decide whether or not to get it - their last conversation hadn't exactly ended well.

Turns out that the decision isn't his, after all. On a Wednesday afternoon, Dr. Reid catches him putting finishing touches on a paper for his sociology class, "If you still want a rematch, I'm free at four today. You left the set in my office."

Jack looks at him, "I remember. I've been playing on the Internet."

Dr. Reid's face crinkles up in mild displeasure at Jack's reply. It's an expression that makes him look much younger, "I hate Internet chess. I thought I taught you better than that, Jack."

In spite of everything, Jack grins, "You did. See you at four, Dr. Reid." 

* * *

><p>Jack ends up being just three minutes late for his meeting with Dr. Reid, but the man doesn't look mad. The board is neatly set up, with the black side facing Jack, and Dr. Reid has even had the foresight to prepare a cup of coffee for him.<p>

"Mind you, it's not very good, the coffee maker in Angela's office is sort of broken," he even apologizes, after he sits down. Jack looks around his office to note that Dr. Reid's personal space no longer resembles a nuclear dustbin, and he silently congratulates the guy.

"I don't mind."

An obscure forty-three moves later, it is Jack who slides his bishop two squares forward. He has to stare at the board for a couple of seconds, and even so, he is still not sure.

Dr. Reid has to say it for him, "Looks like checkmate, Jack."

So it is checkmate. Jack frowns at the almost empty board, as if it is the one at fault for displaying such an outcome, "You cheated." He says flatly.

"But you won," Dr. Reid points out unnecessarily.

"It's not the_ _same_," _Jack crosses his arms.

Regardless, his invitation for an argument gets ignored, and Dr. Reid swipes the remaining pieces off the board, folds up the board. He puts all of these things back into the box and slides it across his desk. "This is yours."

"I'm still not going to ask you what I was going to," Jack says, even as he takes the box and tucks it under his chair.

"I'm not asking you to," says Dr. Reid, "I just want to tell you something."

Dr. Reid wants to tell him something. Jack turns the statement over in his head several times before speaking again, "Is it something that I want to know?"

"I don't know, I'm not you," Dr. Reid looks away from him. "But I don't think it's anything that Aaron will tell you voluntarily."

"Dad doesn't tell me anything voluntarily," Jack laughs a little. "That hasn't changed." He has to stop laughing though, because Dr. Reid looks pathetic, and Jack may as well just give up. It's so much easier that way.

"Just tell me, Dr. Reid."

"You know, I've always thought it to be interesting why Hotch never said you could call me Spencer." The topic change comes out of absolutely nowhere, but Jack is still Aaron Hotchner's son, and he knows it's a no-good attempt to try to guide the conversation elsewhere.

"_Dad _never even called you Spencer," says Jack. "At least, not in front of me. Henry called you Spencer while I was sitting for him, and it weirded me out." He pauses, "Can we stop changing the subject now? As long as you're not going to confess to murdering someone, you might as well tell me. You obviously want to."

There is a very long silence, that stretches, then snaps. Dr. Reid takes a gulp of his coffee. "You're right, I think he's called me Spencer...five times. I may be wrong."

"You're never wrong."

Jack waits some more. It gets to be five o' clock.

Finally, Dr. Reid lets out a very long sigh, "I'm fond of your father," he says, sounding very much like one of those early twentieth-century novels that Chloe should be reading for her British Modernism class, but isn't. Dr. Reid doesn't say anymore after that.

Jack sits very still. A lot of things suddenly make sense, and yet things still don't, "...Does Dad know?"

"I don't know, Jack," Dr. Reid is watching him carefully for some sort of a reaction, Jack knows this, but he honestly doesn't have a reaction to show him. "I wonder about that, sometimes." Which may, or may not be a lie.

Jack wants to ask him why. For perhaps the first time in his life, he genuinely wants to ask a question, but he knows instinctively that this is neither the time nor the place. He gets to his feet, and walks a few steps to stand besides Dr. Reid's chair.

A third long silence passes, and Dr. Reid glances at him, "That reminds me, I've heard the cafeteria is closing early today. You don't want to miss dinner."

On the other hand, Jack has heard no such thing, but he is grateful for the excuse. Sliding the box out from under his chair, Jack lets himself out of Dr. Reid's office without another word._  
><em>


	7. Chapter 7

**Title**: In Our Other Lives  
><strong>Fandom<strong>: Criminal Minds (2005), (c) Jeff Davis  
><strong>CharactersPairings**: Jack Hotchner; **Aaron Hotchner/Spencer Reid**; Spencer Reid/Lila Archer; Jack Hotchner/OFC; Team; Sean Hotchner; other OCs  
><strong>Genres<strong>: Post-Canon-ish/Drama/Romance/Alternate AU  
><strong>Rating<strong>: R  
><strong>Summary<strong>: [Contains **SPOILERS** up to **SEASON 6**] After a particularly bad case, Hotchner forces Reid into early retirement. Reid takes a position as a philosophy professor at the University of Virginia. Jack Hotchner turns eighteen and decides to show both of them what might have been.

* * *

><p>"Decide that you want it more than you are afraid of it."<p>

Bill Cosby

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 7<strong>

"The next weekend, the week before Thanksgiving break, Jack goes home. He takes Chloe with him, because truth be told, he hates the thought of an empty house. His inevitable conversation with his father about bringing a girl home goes something like this:

"Hey Dad? I'm bringing a friend home. She's from out of state and wanted to get away from school."

"...She." Jack can see Aaron put on an expression of intense concentration, with just a hint of concern, and a dash of worry, "Is she your girlfriend?"

Jack glances down the hallway, where Chloe has disappeared to use the bathroom, "I don't know. We haven't talked about that yet. Dad, I'm not going to do anything. Promise."

"Put her in the downstairs guest room, not the upstairs one."

"_Dad_," Jack says, this time out of habit moreso than anything else. "Already figured you'd say that, and already done. I changed the sheets and everything." He pauses. ("Oh, and by the way, Dr. Reid told me that -") No, no of course he couldn't.

"Good," says Aaron. "Listen, I have a meeting." He suddenly seems like he is in a hurry to leave, even though Jack doesn't think he has said anything triggering. "But tomorrow, tomorrow I'll come home. And we can have dinner."

"I'd like that," Jack smiles. "See you, Dad."

"Bye, Jack."

Chloe comes back into the living room a little after that and sits down cross-legged on the couch beside him, "...What's he say?"

"In not so many words, as long as you stay in the downstairs guest room, I don't think he minds," Jack glances at her. "If anything, I think Dad's kind of relieved I have friends. My roommate creeps him out."

She looks puzzled for a moment, "Because of his tattoos?"

"Something like that," Jack shrugs. He takes a quick inventory of the living room and chastises himself for not doing a better job cleaning. But then again, practically no one lives here, "He wants to have dinner with you tomorrow."

A shadow flits momentarily across Chloe's face, "D'you think he'll like me?"

Jack gives her hand a squeeze, "He might not act like it, but Dad pretty much likes everybody."

* * *

><p>Former FBI Agent Emily Prentiss plays a good Frenchwoman from Switzerland, Reid thinks. But because he isn't your run-of-mill civilian, he doesn't have any trouble spotting her. There's a young man with her, blond, twenties, well-dressed. Reid has never pinned Emily to be into younger men, but years in hiding can change a person. It's only a little surprising.<p>

"Reid," she smiles and hugs him tight. "You haven't changed at all."

"I know I've gotten more wrinkles," says Reid with a mild shrug. "Who's this?"

Emily hesitates for just a moment, "This is Daniel. And Daniel, Dr. Spencer Reid."

The young man Daniel steps forward to shake Reid's hand, "Hello, Dr. Reid." From those three words, Reid gathers that while Daniel's mother tongue is English, he has probably been all over the map so it's impossible to tell where he was from. He seems to be a nice enough young man.

To Emily, he says, "You should have told me Daniel was coming. I only booked you a suite." Unless they are really sleeping together. Which he seriously doubts.

Daniel says, "I brought a sleeping bag, I don't plan to be any trouble."

Emily links her arm easily through his, "A suite is fine, Reid. You think too much. I'm starving, though."

Reid drives them to their hotel, and Emily is nice enough not to complain about his driving, Daniel does not say anything, either. Reid is able to get away with his limp until all three of them are cramped in an elevator with a pair of suitcases.

"What happened to your leg?"

"Nothing," Reid says, the words stumbling out too quickly to be convincing. "I hit my ankle against a table leg yesterday, it's still bothering me."

Emily just gives him a look, but she doesn't say anything else after that.

They decide to have dinner at a restaurant near the hotel. Reid has never been to De Lucciano's but he'd skimmed reviews at the airport, and most of them are favorable. Halfway through the meal, Emily says, "So...I let JJ know I was coming back. She wants to have a get-together, once everyone finds time. You should come. It's Thanksgiving."

"I'm retired," Reid says. "And don't tell me Rossi's retired twice." Unlikely as it is that _everyone_will miraculously find time, regardless of it being close to Thanksgiving, he doesn't want to make a promise he's expected to keep.

"Who beat me to it?"

"Morgan."

She makes a nondescript noise in her throat and reaches over for a glass of champagne. Daniel looks old enough to drink, but he is having a glass of lemonade, and Reid isn't drinking because he has to drive.

"But you should come anyway," Emily says again. "It'll be nice to catch up, don't you think?"

No, Reid doesn't really think so, but the topic is much too heavy for a dinner conversation. He knows that such a confrontation is inevitable, since he's the one that volunteered to pick her up from the airport, only because he's the only one with nothing better to do. But there is no reason why it should ruin a pleasant dinner.

"I'll think about it."

Emily doesn't exactly look happy to accept his truce, but she does. "I'll call you when I know more details."

* * *

><p>On the drive back to the hotel, Reid thinks he's figured it out, Daniel takes great care not to say much, but Reid catalogues and dissects every single one of the young man's words and suddenly everything falls into place. He finds himself wishing that other things could be this simple.<p>

He stands with Emily in the hallway after Daniel has bid them both good night, "How'd he find you? Did you tell him it was dangerous?"

"Reid, what are you talking about?"

"Daniel is Declan Doyle, isn't he?"

Emily seems to deflate a little, "...Nothing gets past you, does it, Dr. Reid?" She inhales deeply and closes her eyes, "He's always been looking for me. Said he knew I'd be by myself. Begged me not to send him away. So I didn't. Daniel is good company."

Reid is suddenly itching for a cigarette, "That's good then."

A companionable silence passes between them, Emily finally nudges him. "So, the affair with Hotch?"

He can't quite bring himself to laugh at how ridiculous it sounds, "Has been over for a long time," Reid says. Despite having confessed to Jack that yes, he is still fond of Aaron, he has no doubt that he is speaking the truth. He touches her shoulder for a moment, "Have a good night, Emily."

* * *

><p><em>"Aren't you ever going to go to bed?" Reid appeared in the living room armed with a cup of coffee in each hand. He set one steaming mug in front of Aaron. It was mostly the coffee's aroma that made him look up.<em>

_"...I thought you'd gone to bed."_

_"Paper rustling woke me up," Reid said, blinking nonchalantly as he settled on the couch. "...How long do you think you're going to be?"_

_Aaron gestured at the small stack of files still littered all over Reid's coffee table, "When these all disappear. I don't know when that is." Probably not for another two hours, he feels exhausted, as if his bones were about to melt._

_Reid made a face, "I read two thousand words a minute, at least make good use of me." Without asking for any further permission, he reached for one of the thickest files and pulled out the top piece of paper. "I just have to fill this out, right?"_

_"Reid -"_

_"Aaron," Reid reached over and easily slid Aaron's pen out of his grasp. "Now I know why Haley gets so angry."_

_The coffee that Reid made always ended up on the sweet side, but it was strong. Aaron's grimace came from something else, "Let's not talk about Haley."_

_"Okay," it takes Reid two minutes to skim the entire file. "I hope I never get a promotion, as much as I enjoy paperwork."_

_Aaron felt a smile tug at the edge of his mouth, "I don't think you have to worry about that."_

_Reid leaned back against him, and Aaron smelled generic shampoo. It was a light scent he thought he could get used to. He settled an arm around Reid's shoulders, but was careful not to upset whatever the man happened to be writing._

_After a moment, Reid passed him the file. "Just for appearance's sake, check me?"_

_Aaron was a little bleary-eyed, but he peered closely at the form Reid had just filled out, "This looks like my handwriting."_

_Reid smiled a crooked smile, "It is your handwriting." He read the next question undoubtedly printed on Aaron's face and shrugged, "I get bored. And it's just handwriting. Copying signatures isn't something I can do yet."_

_"You," said Aaron, leaning forward to kiss the edge of the man's mouth, "are brilliant. Has anyone told you that you're brilliant?"_

_"And you're delirious," Reid nudged him pointedly. "Has anyone ever told you that you get increasingly unproductive past two in the morning?"_

_"Not in those words, no."_

_Reid reached for another file, "Well, now you know." He sounded distinctively pleased with himself as he drops a quick kiss on Aaron's forehead. "Just go to sleep. I'll wake you up when I'm finished. If you'd like, I can recite the numbers that make up pi to help you get sleepier."_

_Right. Reid was going to recite the numbers of pi, and Aaron was going to get sleepy. Aaron closed his eyes and slept to the gentle lull of three-point-one-four-five-ninetwosixfivethree..._

"Prentiss is back," says JJ, poking her head into Aaron's office, "I was hoping you could give me your schedule for the next week so I could coordinate something. Just something small." She says this, because Aaron has again and again expressed his dislike for too much festivities.

"My schedule is the same as everyone else's," he says. "Assuming a case doesn't come up, the week is looking sparse. Is Prentiss staying with you?"

JJ pauses, "I called Reid. He promised to get her settled." She looks him over curiously, "Are the two of you still not speaking? I'm not going to invite him to the gathering and just have it be awkward, Hotch."

Aaron isn't sure if she's threatening him, "Reid and I are speaking," he says. "Not much, but we are speaking. It's not something a few conversations can just fix." There's more truth in that statement than Aaron likes to admit.

"You should try to fix it then," she says. "Or else Jack might try to help you." JJ's phone beeps, and she moves away from his doorway to answer it. " - Yes, this is Agent Jareau."

Aaron stares at his doorway and tries not to wonder whether or not she is serious. He has no time for that; he has reports to do.

* * *

><p>"Dr. Reid's in love with Dad."<p>

While this is news to Jack, it's obviously not news at all to his Uncle Sean, who never, ever slept on the weekends, simply because there is too much to do in New York; sleep is a waste of time. His uncle was quite possibly drunk, or at least tipsy in some bar, "And vice versa, Jack. Has been for a very long time. You just figured that out?"

"Dr. Reid told me," Jack says, after he's put the jar of mustard back into the fridge.

"Dr. Spencer Reid told you," now Uncle Sean sounds rightly incredulous. "that he was in love with Aaron. Are we even talking about the same Spencer Reid? Jack, a lot of people discover this thing called pot in college. I promise you your Uncle Sean won't be mad, but I have to ask: are you -"

"I'm not high," Jack says. "He told me. Really."

Uncle Sean is quiet. Aaron and Sean Hotchner may be worlds apart, but they have always shared the same sort of silences, Jack has noticed that. The silences are always heavy, somber, secret.

"What do I do?"

The background noise on the other end has faded, Uncle Sean has most likely walked outside, "You do nothing, Jack. It's Aaron's own mess, and it's high time he learns how to clean up after himself, okay?"

The way Uncle Sean goes on about it, it sounds like Aaron Hotchner is a snot-nosed teenager just discovering the wonders of puberty. In fact, the man is probably rolling his eyes, "Okay."

"Night kiddo," Uncle Sean says. "Virginia isn't that exciting at night, yeah?"

* * *

><p>On Saturday morning, Reid runs errands that mostly consists of mundane tasks of running to the market, the library, and the post office. He returns at two in the afternoon to find a man skulking outside of his apartment building. The man is well-dressed, looks to be early forties, and Reid wonders if he might know this man. Something about him seems familiar.<p>

The man certainly knows him, "Spencer Reid?"

Reid blinks, "Do I - know you?"

The man shakes his head no, "But you knew my father."

A victim's son? A victim's father? Spencer frowns, "I'm sorry, but you have to remind me, I don't recall."

"Well, we've never actually met. My name is Stephen Gideon. My father is -"

Reid's chest suddenly feels tight, "Jason Gideon?"

Stephen Gideon nods. Now that he has a name for the face, Reid looks at him again. He sees Gideon's eyes, Gideon's nose. "Yeah, Jason Gideon."

Reid keys his door and the door clicks, "Would you like to come up? I make good coffee."

Stephen follows him, but he's shaking his head. "Because of my old man, I don't drink coffee. But sure, I'll come up."

They climb stairs, Stephen says, "It took me a while to find you. Dad was so sure you were still at Quantico. Said you were one of those people who didn't know how to leave. What happened?"

Reid remembers a conversation with Gideon on the plane once. The conversation had told him that Gideon had one son about Reid's age who he never saw. But like Emily, it has been years and years since he'd last laid eyes on Jason Gideon. A lot of things change.

"I retired."

Opening the door to his apartment, Reid lets Stephen in, "You look like a kid. What are you doing retired?"

Reid detours to the kitchen to start the coffee maker, "I'm retired from the FBI, but I'm still working." He opens his fridge, "...Pineapple juice okay?"

"It's fine."

Reid pours a generous cup for Stephen and slides it to him on the counter, "...Gideon wanted you to find me?"

Stephen looks somber and nods, "Dad got very sick recently. I was surprised when he called me." He pauses, "Dad passed away last week."

Jason Gideon is dead. Reid stumbles to the nearest chair. He sits down, and takes several deep breaths. He has not thought about Gideon in a long time, but everything is different now that he knows the man is dead.

"Did he go peacefully?"

Stephen shrugs, "I don't know. He was drugged up, and wasn't very lucid. The doctors said he didn't feel any pain." He takes a sip of juice, perhaps for courage, "One of the very last things he said to me was 'find Spencer Reid. Tell him that I've still got no answers and I'm sorry.'"

Reid finds that he has got nothing to say.

Stephen touches his shoulder. Reid flinches, and Stephen quickly drops his hand, "Did you know him well?"

"I worked with him every day for five years," says Reid. "I learned a lot from him. He knew I didn't have a father."

Now it's Stephen's turn to stay quiet. After a moment, Reid says, "He spoke about you once. Said you hate him, probably. Biggest mistake he's ever made, because he threw away what was most important."

Stephen drinks more juice, "His funeral is next week," he dabs his mouth with a handkerchief. "I know it will mean a lot to him if you come. Will you please consider?"

"Yes," Reid reaches out a hand for Stephen to shake. Stephen also has his father's hands. "Thank you. I'm sorry for your loss."

Reid walks Stephen to the door. After that, he gets the decade-old letter from his safe and reads it one last time.

_Spencer, I've got no answers, and I'm sorry._It doesn't mean anything.

Then he watches it burn.

* * *

><p>Aaron makes it home at eight, barely in time for a late dinner. He's brought reports with him, but that's okay, because he knows his son is in college and therefore the house will always have coffee.<p>

Jack's friend is a Chloe Singer, her birthday is in early April, and she is from Indiana. She wanted to get away from there because it rains too much. She is very polite, probably having taken Jack's warnings to heart. She calls him "Agent Hotchner" and ends every other sentence with "sir." She's also a very good cook, because her father is - had been a chef at a five-star restaurant in Philadelphia. Mare Scuro. Aaron has never heard of the place, but he makes a mental note to ask Sean about it.

"Just Aaron is fine," he tells her. "I don't like to be Agent Hotchner at home."

Chloe also doesn't smile a lot. When she does, the smile is sad, but Jack is in love with her. It's all over his face.

"What are you thinking of studying?" He asks, because it's a stock question for all college students and usually a telling one.

"Right now, I'm looking at maybe English Literature," Chloe takes a very sedated bite of mash potatoes, "Maybe I'll focus on something British. But I'm not sure yet." She gives him just the faintest twitch of a smile, "I was going to go into cooking; you know, like my Dad. But then I decided I didn't want to."

Aaron understands. Jack doesn't want to be like his father either.

Jack is eager to volunteer his two cents, "My Uncle Sean works as a chef in New York, but he restaurant-hops a lot and I never know where he's working. By the way Clo, this food is amazing."

"Thanks," she says. "You helped, though."

"If standing there and just pointing out where everything is, then yeah, okay." Jack quickly turns to Aaron. "Don't listen to her, I actually did just stand there."

Aaron says, "Regardless, this is very good food."

When the doorbell rings, the three of them all appear surprised. Aaron gives his son a look, "Yours?"

"Nope," Jack pushes his chair back and stands,. "But I'll go see who it is, hang on."

Jack returns a moment later, wearing a very strange expression, "Hey Dad?"

"Who is it?"

"It's um," Jack makes a gesture that matches his face. "Maybe you should just come out here. He says he doesn't want to come inside the house. I'll stay with Clo."

Aaron considers making a detour to the study to fetch his gun, but while Jack seems bewildered, he does not seem terrified. He leaves the table and walks down the hallway to the front door. The door is open, and Spencer Reid is sitting on his doorstep smoking a cigarette.

"Reid," Aaron stops short. "What are you doing here?"

Reid visibly stiffens at the sound of his voice, then relaxes. The cigarette probably helps with that, not that Aaron approves.

"Hotch, Gideon's dead."


	8. Chapter 8

**Title**: In Our Other Lives  
><strong>Fandom<strong>: Criminal Minds (2005), (c) Jeff Davis  
><strong>CharactersPairings**: Jack Hotchner; **Aaron Hotchner/Spencer Reid**; Spencer Reid/Lila Archer; Jack Hotchner/OFC; Team; Sean Hotchner; other OCs  
><strong>Genres<strong>: Post-Canon-ish/Drama/Romance/Alternate AU  
><strong>Rating<strong>: R  
><strong>Summary<strong>: [Contains **SPOILERS** up to **SEASON 6**] After a particularly bad case, Hotchner forces Reid into early retirement. Reid takes a position as a philosophy professor at the University of Virginia. Jack Hotchner turns eighteen and decides to show both of them what might have been.

* * *

><p>"Give sorrow words; the grief that does not speak whispers the o'er-fraught heart and bids it break."<p>

William Shakespeare

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 8<strong>

Of all the places that Reid could have ended up a few hours after learning that Jason Gideon has died...he certain didn't plan to be at Aaron Hotchner's house. He has to sit outside in his car and smoke half a cigarette before he feels brave enough to even approach the door.

It is Jack who answers, "Dr. Reid." His expression just kind of hangs there, "Would you like to come in? You have to put that out, though."

"Is Hotch here?" says Reid.

"Yeah, he's actually...inside having dinner. My friend made dinner." Jack shifts uncertainly from one foot to the other, visibly uncomfortable.

"Could you fetch your father, please? I won't be long."

"Oh, all right. I can do that." Jack leaves the door open, and turns back down the hallway. Reid settles on the doorstep.

A moment later, Aaron appears, says, "Reid." as if he is genuinely surprised, "What are you doing here?"

Reid inhales slowly, and watches the smoke drift towards the sidewalk and disappear. There are so many things he could have said, but he says, "Hotch, Gideon is dead."

"Jason Gideon is dead?" Aaron repeats the statement slowly, like he is trying to gauge the honesty of the sentence, the possibly of the circumstance. "How?"

"His son found me," says Reid, sucking harder on his cigarette as if that will keep his voice from shaking. "Said Gideon was sick, and that he wanted to make amends." A sharp, short laugh claw its way out of his throat. "Even though he still didn't have an answer for me."

"Reid," Aaron says. "Come inside. Come on, get up."

_Haley was angry, but it was the quiet sort of anger that could simmer and keep for a long time, "No, Spencer, you aren't an inconvenience. Don't be silly."_

_This didn't really make much sense to Reid. Of course he had to be an inconvenience, though to what degree was a subfield that could be more or less up for debate. He'd taken up half of their living room (because the guest room was undergoing renovations) and his books had taken up an entire bookshelf in Aaron's study._

_"Maybe I shouldn't stay," he said. "It's not as if I don't have a place to go." Even though Reid hadn't been back to his apartment for the better part of a week, he'd put down a deposit in order for his landlord to keep his apartment as is._

_Haley looked at him for a long time, "You will stay. You will stay because Aaron needs you to need him."_

_"I - I don't know what that means," said Reid, telling the truth._

_Haley smiled a helplessly unhappy sort smile and made a shooing motion with her hands, "Go to work, Dr. Reid."_

"Reid," Aaron is calling his name again. "Come inside. It's cold out here."

The man has extended a hand to help him up from his perch on the doorstep, and Reid takes it, noting that Aaron's callouses from endless hours of paperwork have grown harder. He stands, not quite trusting his voice. He follows Aaron into the house and tugs his hand away. Aaron doesn't fight him.

Instead, he says, "Do you want something to eat?"

"...Already ate," Reid says. "Do you think I could have something to drink? Something strong?"

"I think I might have some whiskey tucked away in the study. Go look."

Reid thinks that the only reason that Aaron makes a point of sending him to the study is because he gets to bypass the dining room. Which is fine, because he doesn't want to see Jack anyway. He slips off his shoes, hesitates. This is too easy, and somehow, he's pictured their long overdue reunion to be - happier. More complicated. This is too simple.

"Reid, go on. I'll be with you in a few minutes."

Reid walks down the hallway without trying to hide his limp. He knows that Aaron is watching and wonders if the man's heart aches.

* * *

><p>Jack says, "...Did you get him to come in?"<p>

Aaron nods, "I told him it was cold outside."

"We're going to have leftovers," Jack says, being obviously careful not to mention Reid's name in front of Chloe; Aaron is going to have to find nondescript way of thanking him later. "Are you sure he doesn't want any food?"

"I asked him, said he already ate." He conveniently leaves out the fact that he's sent Reid to get drunk in his study.

"Oh," Jack's face flickers, then settles back into nonchalant neutrality. "Do you mind if Clo and I go for a drive? I'll get back and do the dishes."

"Just go, Jack. Don't worry about the dishes. And Chloe, thank you for dinner. I enjoyed it."

"You're welcome, Ag - I mean, Aaron."

Aaron watches as his son puts an arm around Chloe to lead her out of the dining room. After they are gone, he takes a plate and fills it with leftovers just in case.

The door to the study is open a bare crack, and Aaron lets himself in.

Reid is thumbing through a book on the Son of Sam; he barely looks up. While he doesn't appear to have been drinking, Aaron notes that he's found the whiskey and set it on the desk. Aaron sets down the plate next to the bottle.

"Will you have a drink with me?"

Aaron thinks about the pile of paperwork still waiting for him, "I shouldn't, Reid. But I'll stay here for as long as you'd like."

Reid puts the book back into its designated slot and walks over to the desk. He pauses a long minute, then pours himself a generous shot, knocks it back, and almost chokes.

"Easy, Reid."

Reid wipes at the corner of his mouth with his hand and inhales noisily, "Stephen Gideon never knew his father either."

Aaron takes a few steps and closes the distance between them, "You couldn't have done anything about that."

"I know. But I feel like I should have."

Reid pours himself another shot; this time, he doesn't choke.

"I...I really didn't expect you to be home."

Aaron looks at him, "Then why did you drive over?"

"I don't know," Reid shrugs. "I guess I just thought -" he breaks off and abruptly steers his his answer in a different direction altogether, "I just...I just wanted to go for a drive. I guess I drove too far. Coincidence."

Spencer Reid is the last person to believe in coincidence.

"Reid -"

Reid reaches for his hands, and Aaron looks down at their fingers. Reid feels cold, "Do you know? I've known you for fifteen years, and you've called me Spencer five times."

"Spencer." Aaron says. "Don't do this to yourself." That makes it six.

Now Reid laughs, "If I only knew what I was doing to myself, Hotch. If I knew, I'd stop." He stops, and turns his face away. "Aaron, I'm so tired. I'm exhausted."

Something in Aaron wavers and gives. He gently breaks Reid's hold on his hands and touches the man's face. Reid's lips are trembling, but somehow their mouths managed to collide and fit. Reid tastes like smoke, whiskey, disappointment.

Aaron takes a step back, only a step, but Reid catches his wrist, "May I stay?"

"Yes, Spencer," Aaron nods. "Please stay."

* * *

><p>By the time Jack and Chloe come back from their drive, Jack notes that Dr. Reid's car is still parked down the block. Chloe doesn't seem to notice though, so that's okay.<p>

He stops the car in the garage, but neither of them get out.

"Let's just sit here for a little while, okay?" Because the silence between them is something beautiful and he doesn't want it to break quite yet. Perhaps in time, Jack Hotchner will share the same silences as his father. Today, he has come a little bit closer.

* * *

><p>So Reid stays, because Aaron says he can, that he wants him to. He doesn't know what any of it might mean, but he's pretty sure that the conundrum will collapse on itself if he thinks too hard about it, so he simply doesn't. Aaron has paperwork to deal with, and Reid settles into the only other vacant chair in the study with another shot of whiskey and the book on Son of Sam.<p>

"Haven't you already read that?" says Aaron, sounding amused, if anything.

"I've probably read every book there is to read about Son of Sam," Reid shrugs, balancing the shot glass on one knee as he turns a page. "I would offer to help you with the paperwork, but I have a feeling that you'd refuse."

"You're no longer an Agent of the Bureau," Aaron reminds him pointlessly. "Of course I can't. But if it gets to be two in the morning and my productivity starts to go down, you can bail me out."

Aaron probably doesn't mean that, but Reid takes the promise and holds it close anyway. He waits until Aaron has finished one file and adds, "...Morgan tells me I've been replaced by someone from Yale."

"You haven't been replaced, Reid," Aaron does not bother to look up. "And I'm not at liberty to say, you're a civilian now, remember?"

Reid lets the topic slide. He does not want to make this any more awkward than necessary. This is not how things should be, but it's how things are. He cannot ask for anything else, "I happen to be a retired FBI Agent. Not just any civilian."

"I know," Aaron says. "But we can all stand to be a little younger. Being a civilian keeps you that way. Go to sleep, Reid."

"It's early," besides, Reid is afraid to close his eyes, just like he is afraid to leave Aaron's study. He's afraid of what he might see.

"I'll be here."

He can't quite find anything to say to that, so he turns another page in the book and stays quiet. The rustling of paper is something familiar, so Reid closes his eyes and remembers.

* * *

><p>It's about an hour later, when something - someone shakes him awake. Reid starts, grabbing wildly until Aaron manages to settle a hand on his shoulder, "Reid. Spencer. Easy."<p>

Seven. Reid stills, " - Hotch?"

"Still here," Aaron lets go of his shoulder and steps back. "You're going to get a crick sleeping in that chair. Go lie down in the living room."

Reid shakes his head, "I'm not tired. How's work?"

Aaron follows Reid's eyes to his desk. It looks to Reid as though Aaron's workload hasn't at all diminished, but the man shrugs, "It's coming along, I suppose."

"I'm going to stay here until you finish," Reid says, because he is suddenly afraid to leave this room. He knows that if he leaves, he will never be able to come back again.

Aaron knows this too, or perhaps Reid is most transparent when he least ought to be. Whatever the reason, he doesn't mention the living room again, he retreats behind his desk and sits down, "Fine. Suit yourself."

Reid watches as the man go back to work. Before he completely loses his nerves, he says, "-Gideon's memorial service. Stephen says it's next week. I'd like to go." He isn't brave enough to go alone, but he isn't brave enough to ask for company either.

Aaron says, "If I'm not working, then I'll come with you."

It is not a promise, but it's good enough. Reid smiles, "Okay."

* * *

><p>Jack gets up at four in the morning for some water in the kitchen. He notes that the light in the living room is still on, so he peeks his head in, already piecing together a lecture for his father about the many dangers of driving half asleep, but he finds Dr. Reid sprawled awkwardly on the couch clutching a blanket, still dressed in business casual. Even his tie is intact.<p>

"Dr. Reid?"

The man starts, snapping upright, almost making Jack jump backwards, "I'm sorry, were you sleeping?" The light is on, and Dr. Reid had not looked very asleep.

"No, Jack, I wasn't. You just - you just surprised me."

Somewhere in Jack's memory, he remembers a conversation just like this one. Jack wavers uncertainly by the light switch, "...Well, it _is_four in the morning. D'you want me to turn off the light?"

"Leave it on," Dr. Reid waves him away. "I should be leaving, anyway. I'll turn it off when I go." He manages to untangle his arms and legs from the blanket and stands.

"You're not going to stay until morning?" Jack blinks. "Dad doesn't have to go to work so early on Sunday."

He watches Dr. Reid fold up the blanket and rearrange the cushions, "I already stayed too long, Jack."

"I don't know what you mean," says Jack, because really, none of it makes any sense. All he knows is that perhaps everyone knows that Spencer Reid is in love with his father, and the only one that has trouble coming to terms with it is the good doctor himself.

"I hope you never do," Dr. Reid says. "Thank Hotch for me, won't you?"

"Dr. Reid -"

But he is gone.

* * *

><p>In the end, it is not so unbelievable that neither of them never really <em>talked <em>about anything.

_Aaron had to wait a full ten minutes before the door opened to reveal a haggard-looking Spencer Reid holding a hardcover copy of the latest edition of the Oxford Dictionary. When he came to the realization that yes, it was still indeed Aaron Hotchner at his door, he attempted to shut the door. Aaron barely managed to wedge one foot in the door to stop having it slammed in his face._

_Reid gave him a helpless look, but he opened the door a little wider, parking his body squarely in the doorway, more than a sign that Aaron was not welcome, "What do you want?"_

_"I want to talk, Reid."_

_Reid's face flinched, but did not give. "I can't. Go back to your wife. We've already said too much." Speaking was not all they have done, either. That was perhaps the worst of it._

_"Reid," Aaron started, speaking slowly because he was grasping words one at a time. "Spencer. Please." He scoured the man's face for any sign of forgiveness, something even remote and hopeless as a twitch, and he thought he found nothing._

_"Forget it," Reid stepped back from the doorway, but of course Aaron wasn't stupid enough to take that as an invitation. "I've drafted my resignation letter. I might hand it in tomorrow after I revise it. Maybe I wrote too much."_

_"Spencer, don't be drastic," as soon as Aaron said this, he chastised himself for sounding too sharp. It wasdrastic, but he had no doubt that Reid was serious. "What are you going to do if you retire?"_

_Reid set his chin stubbornly, looking so much like a boy on the verge of throwing a wild tantrum, "I have three PhDs, maybe I'll get a fourth. Does it matter? And anyway, resigning isn't the same as retiring."_

_Aaron suddenly didn't know what he's going to do when Reid is not there anymore. The possibility is all at once real, and he reaches out, taking the man's arm firmly in his grasp._

_"Hotch, let go of me," said Reid, but made no struggle. The will to fight was beginning to go out of him. "Do you understand what you're asking me to do? I don't know how I'm going to live with myself." His voice grew softer and softer. "Don't make me do this. Don't make me hate myself." (More than he already did, perhaps.)_

_Aaron waited a long moment, and let go of the man's arm, he had gripped Reid hard enough for the corresponding wrinkles to stay imprinted on his sleeve. Of course Reid's face remained impassive, but Aaron wondered if it'd hurt._

_"I'm happy with you." (He might have had said the same thing to Haley once, but Aaron managed to convince himself that he didn't quite remember saying it.)_

_"This doesn't make any sense," said Reid._

_"I know," but it wouldn't make sense, Aaron doubted that it ever would. If he could only find a satisfactory explanation to give to a man who obviously thrived on such things, everything would be simple._

_Spencer Reid was incapable of understanding many things, especially things that were specifically spelled out in richly academic language, but maybe he did get it, at least this time._

_"If you stay, you'll stay for a long time."_

* * *

><p>In the morning, Aaron wakes up to wander into the living room, feigning aimlessness, but he soon finds that he doesn't need to feign anything. The cushions are rearranged accordingly, and the blanket folded. He picks up the blanket and inhales deeply, it smells ever so vaguely of Reid.<p>

When a hand clasps him on the shoulder, Aaron flinches and turns, "Reid -"

Instead, he is faced with Jack handing him a cup of coffee with a mat intact. "Here Dad, careful, it's really hot. I just made it," he says. "Dr. Reid left when I woke up for some water. He says thank you."

Aaron is disappointed, but he already knows that Reid would not stay until morning. He nods wordlessly and takes the cup from his son, who is staring at him for a reaction, but Aaron is too careful to give one.

_"When you stay, you will stay for a while."_

Or something like that, he doesn't really remember. It isn't untrue, he has stayed for a while, but very far from the place he wants to be.

"Dad?" Jack's voice nudges him back.

"Coffee's fine," Aaron assures him quickly. He reaches out his other hand, originally wanting to pat his son on the head, but he realizes belatedly that Jack is eighteen, not eight. The hand drops to Jack's shoulder. "Call me when you're back on campus. I'm going to work now."

Jack's expression seems slow trying to shift from puzzlement to neutral, "Okay. D'you want me to tell Dr. Reid 'you're welcome' when I see him?" It's a thinly veiled bribe for a reaction.

Aaron still doesn't give him one, although he almost does, "If you'd like." He turns abruptly and heads back into the kitchen.


	9. Chapter 9

**Title**: In Our Other Lives  
><strong>Fandom<strong>: Criminal Minds (2005), (c) Jeff Davis  
><strong>CharactersPairings**: Jack Hotchner; **Aaron Hotchner/Spencer Reid**; Spencer Reid/Lila Archer; Jack Hotchner/OFC; Team; Sean Hotchner; other OCs  
><strong>Genres<strong>: Post-Canon-ish/Drama/Romance/Alternate AU  
><strong>Rating<strong>: R  
><strong>Summary<strong>: [Contains **SPOILERS** up to **SEASON 6**] After a particularly bad case, Hotchner forces Reid into early retirement. Reid takes a position as a philosophy professor at the University of Virginia. Jack Hotchner turns eighteen and decides to show both of them what might have been.

* * *

><p>"Indeed, man wishes to be happy even when he so lives as to make happiness impossible."<p>

St. Augustine

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 9<strong>

The journey from point A to point B is simple and efficient in mathematics. It's why Reid's always liked math. This is not exactly so for cases when the proverbial point A to point B incorporates people in one sense or another, and this is one of the reasons why Spencer Reid swears up and down that he will never take the trouble to get a PhD in Psychology.

After sleeping for most of the morning, Reid spends his Sunday afternoon with a last-minute batch of essays and Darwin's _The Origins of Species_, because he desperately needs the reminder that yes, rational pragmatism is something that still exists.

When his doorbell rings, Reid peeks out the peephole and finds Declan Doyle - Daniel, not Aaron, and perhaps he isn't disappointed.

He opens his door and peers at the young man behind his glasses, " - Daniel. What a surprise."

"Aunt Sophie went to visit some friends," says Daniel, settling his hands in his pockets. "I thought I'd come hang out here..." he trails off and gestures at Reid's glasses, "am I interrupting something?"

While Emily is an old friend, Reid knows under no circumstances would he just leave his address for her to find. Daniel must have done some digging, and yet his face, still trying to shake the promises of youth, says nothing. He must have practiced. Given who he is, really, this is no surprise.

"I was just reading," Reid takes a step backwards. "Coffee or tea?"

"Neither," Daniel shrugs again. "I don't like caffeine."

"Your Aunt Sophie got to you, didn't she?" Reid shakes his head as he makes his way into the kitchen. Sedated footsteps let him know that Daniel is following his lead. "How about juice?" It's strange saying it, Aunt Sophie, because it's so far from the truth, but of course, it isn't the only thing.

"Juice would be fine, thank you," Daniel takes a seat at Reid's kitchen counter. Reid pours him a tall glass full of pineapple juice, just like he did for Stephen Gideon. Then he makes a detour to pour himself a cup of coffee.

Then there is silence.

Finally, Daniel says, "How did you figure it out?"

Reid doesn't look at him, "I used to work with your aunt, it was not hard to put the two and two together. For me, anyway."

"But it's been years," says Daniel. "I looked for her for years." As if Reid's realization has all but bastardized Daniel's hard work.

"I know. She told me." This whole conversation is making Reid feel so impossibly old. When he looks at Daniel, he sees everything that he might have been. which is why he can't bring himself to look.

"Then you know," Daniel says, pressing his mouth idly against the rim of his glass. He appears to be at a loss about how to go about finishing his thought, so it just sort of hangs there.

Reid does not say anything. He grimaces when he realizes that there isn't enough sugar in his coffee, and gets up from his seat to remedy that.

"Dr. Reid."

He wonders what it's like, to grow up having someone like Ian Doyle as a father. Reid obviously can't ask, but he supposes he can do the next best thing, "Why don't you tell me about yourself?"

"I...what?"

Reid sits down again, "Tell me about yourself, and your aunt."

Daniel takes a sip of juice, and laces his fingers together, he speaks slowly. "My surname's Riley, it was my dad's, but disappeared when I was a kid," there is the barest of pauses. "I spent most of my time in Belfast with friends who knew my Aunt Sophie. She was always there, you know. Even though she wasn't."

"I know," Reid says.

Daniel seems to relax a little, but not much. "I graduated last term, first degree honours from the University of Cambridge. Then I flew to Switzerland, learned French, tried to stop sounding so bloody Irish, and found Aunt Sophie. It took me the longest time. She was hard to find."

That is perhaps the worst understatement Reid has ever heard, but he lets it go, seeing no point in disagreeing. Then he thinks about who Declan Doyle could have become, and the man is today, here in his kitchen.

The back of his eyes feel unnaturally hot, just to be safe, he drains his coffee and gets up, giving himself a convenient excuse to face the sink.

"Your Aunt Sophie is lucky to have you," says Reid.

Perhaps Daniel is smiling, but as curious as Reid is about the man's expression, he can't trust himself to turn around.

"You think so?"

"I don't think, I know." Reid says, and when the turns around, he finds the courage to smile a little, "I envy you."

Daniel tilts his head to the side, "Why?"

"Because you are brave, and maybe stupid."

The man's expression drops for a moment, but a moment later, it's back in place, because Reid adds, "I wish I were like you. You'll take care of her for all of us?" (_Will you be everything I wish I was?_)

Daniel's smile is quiet, brilliant, and golden. "Of course I will."

* * *

><p>When she walks in his office, the woman is everything he doesn't expect.<p>

"Prentiss," the surprise on Aaron's face is evident.

"You look surprised to see me," it is no surprise; however, that Emily Prentiss picks that up on that right away. "No one told you I was coming?"

"No, it's not that," Aaron shakes himself. "I was expecting you to look different."

"I don't look different to you?"

Since she sounds oddly incredulous, Aaron makes it a point to look her over again. He wonders if this is some sort of trick question, "You look more fashionable?" He tries for a compliment, fully expecting it to fall flat. "Not a fan of Lausanne myself, but I hear that Europe helps with that."

She laughs, "Ha funny, Hotch."

Aaron takes her hand and gives it a firm shake, "Good to see you too."

The moment is crudely interrupted when the phone on Aaron's desk starts ringing. Throwing an apologetic glance over his shoulder, he takes the call, "This is Hotchner."

"Agent Hotchner, this is Section Chief Erin Strauss."

"Ma'am," Despite himself, Aaron knows his voice isn't completely flat like he means it to be. "What can I do for you?"

"You can assemble your team and have them meet me in the conference room in fifteen minutes. There is someone I'd like you all to meet."

Aaron hangs up, as a heavy weight settles on his shoulders, "I have a meeting. But you're welcome to stay here and wait." He gets to his feet, "Actually, if you could do me a favor."

Prentiss shrugs, "Sure."

"Could you possibly...give Reid a call? I meant to call him earlier, but I'm afraid I'm going to forget." After the words leave his mouth, Aaron practically makes a run for the door - if not a run, then certainly a stately trot.

Prentiss may have asked him what she was supposed to call Reid about, but Aaron pretends not to hear her.

* * *

><p><em>When the weather was nice, Jack took walks with his mother. There was a park nearby, and even though Jack was almost eight years old and too old to hold hands with her without being embarrassed, but it was nice to go for a walk. He would have better liked having a dog as an excuse, but his mother lived in an apartment now, and Jack lived there too. He only saw his father every two weekends. The landlord was a nice man, but dogs were simply not allowed in the complex.<em>

_Jack was too old for swings too, but he sat down on one, when she sat down on the other. If she wasn't too old to swing, than he wasn't, either._

_"Mom?"_

_"Yes, honey," she turned to him. His mother was wearing a lovely green dress that filled out when the wind blew._

_"Do you miss Dad? I miss Dad. I miss Dr. Reid, too."_

_She pursed her lips into a straight line._

_"Mom, Mom, are you mad?" Abruptly, Jack kicked his shoes onto the dirt and came to a complete stop, but she kept on swinging._

_"Oh," she said. "Oh, Jack. Of course I miss your father. I miss him every day." She did not say that she missed Dr. Reid._

_It didn't make any sense. Jack didn't like the way her face scrunched up, so he pushed himself off on the swing again and decided not to ask anymore questions._

Maybe it makes him a bad person, but when Jack thinks of the woman who was - is his mother, he can only close his eyes and hear distant screams.

Screams

"_Jack_!" Someone is yelling into his ear. Chloe, "Red light!"

He slams his foot hard on the break, setting off a furious barrage of honking behind them. Chloe is clenching both of her hands tightly.

"What were you thinking? Jesus, Jack."

"Sorry, sorry," he apologizes quickly. "I'm just -"

"You okay?"

"Yeah, yeah, okay."

* * *

><p>When Reid's phone suddenly goes off, he jumps ten feet, more or less, and barely manages to land upright, Daniel peers at him curiously, "Expecting someone?" He says, peeking over a borrowed hardcover on environmental ethics.<p>

_Call from E. P._is what his phone says. Reid makes a note to change it to Sophie Careau at a more convenient time. Without saying anything to Daniel, he picks up, "Your boy ran away, I guess he likes me better."

"Funny," Emily says. "Hotch says hello."

"I - what?" Reid blinks. "What's that even supposed to mean?"

"Hell if I know," Emily sounds one part annoyed and two parts really amused. "Strauss called him, apparently he had a meeting, and he asked me to check up on you, didn't even tell me what about."

"Oh," says Reid, very softly. It feels as if all the air has suddenly gone out of his lungs. He has to sit down, "Right."

Emily gives him a moment, "So your affair with Hotch, boy genius. Isn't exactly over, is it?"

"I hate you," says Reid, not meaning it. He hangs up.

* * *

><p><em>When Haley came back to collect Jack from Reid's apartment, it was nearing three o' clock. She only looked a little apologetic, "I'm sorry I'm late. Did Jack behave?"<em>

_"Yes, yes he did. We read, played chess, had Indian food and ice cream for lunch." Not in that order, but Jack had sworn up and down that he would not tell a soul. That it would be their little secret._

_Haley said, "That's good then."_

_"-Where's Hotch?"_

_"Aaron went straight to work from court," ("I'd think you know that," was implied in the rest of her expression, the way that her mouth was stiff, and the way her eyes were cold.)_

_"Oh." Reid shifted uncomfortably from one foot to the other. He wondered if he should say something; congratulations did not seem to fit the circumstance, neither did further begging. He'd begged his share._

_His silence surprised her, "You're not going to say anything?"_

_"It's useless to say anything you aren't going to listen to," and the sharpness of his own voice surprised him. Reid quickly turns away, "I'm sorry. But what can I say, Haley?"_

_She shrugged, "I suppose you can't say anything. Will you fetch Jack for me?"_

_"Yeah, hold one second."_

_He'd left Jack in his study, where the boy was pouring over a giant atlas. He had flipped to a full colored map of Virginia. Reid had scrawled blue ink all over the map. He touched Jack's shoulder, "Hey, your Mommy's here."_

_Jack jabbed his finger against a spot where ink had smeared, "This is where I live, Dr. Reid, look."_

_Reid peered closely, "Yes, it is. That's very good, Jack. Now come on."_

_Jack got to his feet, "Are you mad?"_

_"No, Jack. I'm not."_

_The boy shot him one more suspicious look and padded out the study. After putting the atlas away in its proper place, Reid followed suit. He watched at a respectable distance and watched Jack launch himself into his mother's arms._

_"Hi, Mommy! I've missed you!"_

_"Hi, sweetie, I've missed you too," she scooped him up and hugged him tight, "Were you a good boy for Dr. Reid?"_

_"Of course I was," he pouted at her,_

_Reid waved awkwardly at them from his position in the mouth of the hallway, "Good-bye, Jack, Haley."_

_Jack just waved back at him, and Haley smiled the saddest smile he had ever seen; it almost made his own eyes well up, "Please be happy, Spencer."_

_Suddenly, he was afraid to get any closer._

* * *

><p>Allison Cowell is twenty-four-years-old, freshly graduated from Yale University with a PhD in Chemistry and MAs in Physics and Psychology, with all the obvious available honors; she also has a giant chip on her shoulder. It doesn't take long at all for Aaron and the rest of his team to figure out that Cadet Cowell's got Section Chief Strauss completely under her control. Which shouldn't be possible, but is, apparently.<p>

"I'm ultimately confident that Cadet Cowell will be an invaluable asset to your team, Aaron," Strauss says.

"Yes, ma'am."

"I trust you'll get her settled?"

"Yes, ma'am," Off the top of his head, Aaron can't even think of any one place where Cadet Cowell can get settled down. As far as he knows, all the desks are occupied with someone's paperwork, and they've long since removed Reid's desk from the cluster in the other room.

"Thank you, Agent," Strauss puts out a hand. Aaron is unhappy about it, but he sees no choice. He has told her countless times that the team does not need a replacement for Spencer Reid to function properly. In fact, the team functions even better without a Reid-like person, because then it keeps Aaron on task, he doesn't have to think about Reid.

After Strauss leaves the room, Aaron settles his eyes on Cadet Allison Cowell. She is wearing a gray business suit that looks at least two decades too old for her, and shoes so shiny that they must have been bought for one occasion. Her makeup is flawless, but her face twitches at odd intervals, leading him to deduce that she isn't used to makeup.

Cowell looks entirely too self-assured. Aaron is suddenly reminded of the way Gideon had guided a slouching Reid in a crooked tie in his office, many years earlier.

_"Hotch, I'd like you to meet Dr. Spencer Reid."_

He remembered Reid shifting uneasily from one foot to the other. Aaron cocked a curious eyebrow, "For what purpose?"

"I want him on the team," Gideon said. "This kid is genius."

"No," Dr. Spencer Reid spoke up, his voice was thin, a little bit high, as if he lacked the proper amount of oxygen for him to function properly. "I'm just smart, the term genius has too many unrealistic implications."

Aaron said, "Oh."

Gideon just laughed, "See what I mean?"

Cadet Cowell is extending her hand towards him, "Agent Hotchner, it's a pleasure to be working with you."

Aaron squeezes her hand so hard that she grimaces, "Likewise. JJ, could you please show Cadet Cowell around, make sure she's comfortable." JJ gets the job, because he knows that she's the most resourceful under scrutiny and pressure.

"You got it," JJ spares him what seems to be a pitying look of sorts and gestures. "Please, come with me."

* * *

><p>Daniel says, "What are you doing later?"<p>

"Why?"

"Just...if you're looking for something to do, you could drive me back to Quantico. I took a taxi and I've run out of money - what do you say, broke?"

Reid looks him up and down; he doesn't expect to find anything, and he finds himself more or less meeting all of his expectations. Emily has taught this boy a few things, or perhaps Daniel Riley learned all these things by himself; given the life that he has had, it would not be so surprising.

"Is this a trick?"

Daniel looks the picture of nonchalance as he shrugs his shoulders, "I don't know. It might be. I don't know what you mean."

"Of course you don't," Reid says. "Give it five years."

"Whatever you say, Dr. Reid."

It's infuriating. Reid suddenly wants to hit him, and perhaps test strangulation techniques with a pen, _Fuck you_seems apt for this particular moment, but he doesn't know how to incorporate it correctly into his personality.

"Let me fetch my keys."

* * *

><p>Troy finds both of them in bed together (clothed) and doesn't even blink.<p>

" 'S about fucking time," he says, not sounding unkind about it. "I swear, the two of you give me blue balls."

"Shut up, Troy."

Troy just shrugs, "Anyway, just here for some books, don't mind me. If you feel like getting naked -"

"_Troy_,"

After he leaves with half of his desk cleaned out, Jack and Chloe resume staring at the ceiling. Finally, Chloe pokes him gently on the nose and says, "So, are you ever going to tell me what got into you today?"

"Nothing, I'm fine."

"Jack Haley, we could have crashed headfirst into a _truck_. We could have died."

They could have died, she says.

For a moment, Jack completely forgets who 'Jack Haley' is, and then he remembers. He looks at her face, and crumbles, "I was thinking about my mom. And how I don't remember much. I kind of hate it. It really sucks."

There's the whole other mess with Dr. Reid being in love with his dad too, but Jack can't exactly tell her that part yet. Telling her that part will make everything real. He is trying really hard not to think about that.

"Oh."

She holds him tighter.


	10. Chapter 10

**Title**: In Our Other Lives  
><strong>Fandom<strong>: Criminal Minds (2005), (c) Jeff Davis  
><strong>CharactersPairings**: Jack Hotchner; Aaron Hotchner/Spencer Reid; Spencer Reid/Lila Archer; Jack Hotchner/OFC; Team; Sean Hotchner; other OCs  
><strong>Genres<strong>: Post-Canon-ish/Drama/Romance/Alternate AU  
><strong>Rating<strong>: R  
><strong>Summary<strong>: [Contains **SPOILERS** up to **SEASON 6**] After a particularly bad case, Hotchner forces Reid into early retirement. Reid takes a position as a philosophy professor at the University of Virginia. Jack Hotchner turns eighteen and decides to show both of them what might have been.  
><strong>Warnings<strong>: Infidelity; death of a minor canon character; mild violence

"If you only do what you know you can do - you never do very much."

Tom Krause

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 10<strong>

Aaron Hotchner is getting a migraine, "Prentiss, you know I have work."

"It's Sunday evening, Hotch," she clicks her tongue. "How much paperwork could you have?"

"Since Cadet Cowell joined the team? Considerable." Strauss has already threatened him unofficially, but officially, he still needs to make sure everything appears legitimate. "Maybe another time."

"Hotch, unless you're flying to Switzerland any time soon, there won't be another time." She fixes him with a pointed glance. "My plane leaves Tuesday morning, I don't plan to stay any longer."

The idea of a drink - perhaps even several drinks, is tempting, considering the last couple of days.

"Come on, Hotch," she says. "We promise we won't keep you. Even Rossi's promised to stop reorganizing his desk for the fiftieth time today."

A small smile has stolen on Aaron's and stays there, despite his most valiant efforts, "Well. If Dave can make that tremendous sacrifice -"

"Knew you'd say that," Prentiss' smile grew wider. "My hotel then? It's close."

He gives her a testing look, "You've already told everyone, haven't you?"

"Guilty as charged, sir, besides, JJ said you guys were having a sparse week. Might as well make it interesting." she picks up her purse from the chair. "I hope you don't mind if I ride along with you."

Aaron follows her out of the office, locking the door behind him. He already knows that he doesn't have much of a choice when it comes to driving her to her hotel, but finds that he doesn't mind the company.

* * *

><p>Daniel tells him on the way back to Quantico that he enjoys classical music. He doesn't care much for the newfangled works of Prokofiev or Stravinsky, but he's always had a soft spot for Johannes Brahms.<p>

"Why?" Reid glances at him briefly as them come to a stoplight.

The younger man shrugs, "I haven't the slightest." When an opening chord blasts itself from the speakers, Daniel reaches for the volume knob, "Perhaps it is because he has no sense of humor, he knows sadness, he's always known it."

Or perhaps Johannes Brahms was someone who spent most of his lifetime in love with Clara Schumann. Reid waits. There has to be more.

But there isn't anything, and the quiet is muddy and distrustful, so he says, "I like Tchaikovsky." Yes, Reid is well aware that everyone and their mother likes Tchaikovsky, but sometimes he can be generic too.

Daniel stays quiet.

Presently, Reid pulls into the parking structure of Daniel's hotel and stops his car in the nearest spot, "So."

"Erm," Daniel shifts in his seat and clicks off his seatbelt, "so I told you, I'm broke. D'you want to come up so I can buy you a drink? I'll put it on the tab."

"I've got to drive back," Maybe he's just being paranoid, but Reid is definitely getting such a bad feeling about all this.

"Something non-alcoholic then? I never drink anything alcoholic at the bar, either," something flickers across the boy's face, but doesn't stay.

Reid can't stand to look at Daniel's face and wonder. Before he can change his mind and drive away, he gets out of the car. "Just one drink." (It isn't even a drink, cultural phenomenon dictates that 'drinks' must contain alcohol.)

Daniel smiles, all at once gracious, "That's all I ask."

* * *

><p>Aaron is on his second Scotch on the rocks and thinking about joining the general rowdiness of his table. Everyone seems to be in good spirits, and since Cadet Cowell isn't with them, everyone relaxes a little.<p>

"So Hotch," says JJ, who is seated directly to his left. "I'll be expecting a personal bonus check from you at some point, since you made me play host."

Garcia, who is sipping something suspiciously green, and playing with her paper umbrella, looks up and rolled her eyes, "Oh, _please_, me too?"

Aaron resists the urge to roll his eyes too, "Stop been drastic, both of you."

Oddly enough, it's Rossi who speaks up in their defense, "They have every right to be drastic, Hotch. She wanted her own office. Even had the gall to ask if one was available." Because the ridiculousness is too much for him to handle, Rossi presently turns back to his whiskey. "Apparently Strauss told her that the BAU would definitely be accommodating."

"Emily," Garcia swivels around to her other side to face Prentiss, who is nursing her glass of champagne, "Come back to the BAU, I know you're not Boy Genius, but that woman, yeesh." she shudders.

Prentiss laughs, but she shakes his head, "I like the extra vacation time," she turns around, as a young man and - and Reid? walk up to the counter.

The young man says, "Hi Kelly, two of your fruit specials. One for my friend here."

Prentiss is laughing again, "_Daniel_, don't subject Reid to that. And for God's sake, Reid."

Reid whirls around, " - Emily," his face goes slack in surprise. Then - "Hotch."

Aaron nearly chokes. He dabs his mouth quickly with a napkin, glancing around to see if anyone has noticed.

"Anyway," Prentiss seems newly animated again as she gestures. "Reid, join us. There's a place here. You can leave Daniel to his awful flirting." Morgan actually gets up to pull over a vacant chair, and JJ scoots over hers to make room.

The strange man that Aaron doesn't recognize makes a face, "Aunt _Sophie_. Be more subtle about that, please."

"I will when you will, kiddo."

Reid looks on uncertainly at this exchange, but he gets his drink, something colored a stately burgundy, and wanders over to their table as Prentiss has instructed.

Aaron takes this moment to look accusingly at her, "You tricked me." He knows he sounds more shocked than he ought to be.

Prentiss sips the last of her champagne and waves for a refill, "I don't know what you're talking about."

Of course he doesn't get any further in trying to interrogate her, because Garcia hops to her feet and breaks out into an impressive sprint around the table to give Reid an equally impressive hug. "Hi! I miss you I miss you. I kind of hate it that you never never ever visit."

Reid winces, but he hugs her back the best he can in his awkward position, "Ouch. Okay. Hello."

"That's not good enough, pretty boy," Morgan laughs from across the table. "When Garcia's this mad, you gotta do better than that."

Aaron watches as she gives him one last squeeze and bounces back to her seat, "Derek's right, you know."

Reid says, "Whatever she's having, I want some."

Grinning, Garcia tips back the last of her drink, "Oh, I know, it's like liquid rainbows. D'you want one? I could get you one."

"Ah," says Reid in a general non-answer sort of way, but she has already gotten up again, headed in the direction of the bar.

Aaron sips at the rest of his Scotch for courage, "So...what are you drinking, Reid?"

" - I." Reid glances down at his glass with thick, red liquid. "I don't really know."

Prentiss makes a face, "You're probably drinking Daniel's really, really health-conscious and really virgin fruit smoothie. That, by the way, is a quote."

Reid tries it, and he winces.

Prentiss says, "Thought so." She plucks Aaron's glass from in front of him and slides it over to where Reid is sitting, "There's a bit left in there, might as well treat yourself."

Aaron takes his glass back, "Reid doesn't drink Scotch."

"Oh?"

"Of course he doesn't have boring Scotch - no offense, sir," Garcia sets a drink in front of Reid, "if he has this. Drink and be merry, my boy."

* * *

><p>If Aaron has told anyone about Gideon's death, no one hassles Reid about it. For that, he is grateful. Or it may be just that everyone knows, and doesn't want to spoil the good mood going on because everyone's bordering on tipsy.<p>

When ten o' clock rolls around, JJ stands up. "I've got to go. Henry's at home and probably sneaking around in hopes of standing up."

"Who's sitting for him?" Reid asks, feeling somewhat responsible because he is Henry's godfather.

"Oh, Laura Nicholson, nice college girl down the street," before she leaves, JJ bends to give Reid a kiss on his forehead. "But you're still most definitely Henry's favorite."

Reid gives her a bland smile, "That's good to know."

Aaron volunteers, "Jack says that Henry says that Spencer's way cooler."

"Oh," says Reid, trying not to light up too obviously for all to see at that statement.

After JJ leaves, Aaron gets sluggishly to his feet and settles his hand heavily on the back of Reid's chair. Reid watches the man's knuckles turn white. "I should go too. I've got - paperwork."

Emily says, "Hotch, you don't look fit to drive."

"I'm fine," Aaron says. "Really."

Reid thinks the contrary, if Aaron lets go of the back of his chair, it's not so much of a stretch to expect him to tip over. Aaron had looked pleasantly buzzed when Reid had arrived, he doesn't know how many drinks the man has had since then. It seems crass and careless unlike Aaron, but Reid finds that he doesn't want to think about that.

"I'll drive you," he stands, significantly less wobbly on his feet. "I haven't had that much, and you can come pick your car up here in the morning."

Aaron looks at him blearily, "That means you have to stay with me until the morning."

Or maybe Aaron is more sober than Reid gives him credit for, Reid refuses to let the pang in his chest stay for very long.

"Fine, then give me your keys."

Aaron digs them out, and drops them in Reid's open palm. One for his car, one for his study, one for his front door, one for his back door, and one for his desk, in that order. He is a private person.

Reid pockets them and puts a hand under Aaron's elbow, "Come on, get up."

* * *

><p>Reid drives him home in silence. The silence is suffocating. When they arrive, Reid tosses over the keys onto Aaron's lap and gets out.<p>

Aaron gets out too, he finds that he is mostly steady on his feet, which is good. Which is very good, "What are you going to do now?"

"Probably call a taxi, get my car, drive home, call it a day." Reid is checking his cell phone for reception, "But I'll see you inside first."

"You don't have to."

"But I'd like to.'

Aaron can't really argue with that, he takes his keys and unlocks the door, letting Reid go in first. Reid slips off his shoes and puts them against the wall.

"Hotch."

"Yes, Reid?"

"Did you tell anyone about Gideon?" The thing is, he hasn't told Aaron outright not to, perhaps he should have done that for security reasons.

Aaron has to think for a moment, "No. No I haven't told anyone." He turns down the hallway to his bedroom. For a number of reasons, he'd decided to convert the master bedroom into a guest room and had moved to the guest bedroom downstairs.

Reid stands in the doorway just watching him, "Why didn't you? They worked with Gideon too."

Aaron smiles a bitter sort of smile. Despite everything, Reid still seems so young, "Find Spencer Reid, he says. I think Gideon was trying to make amends in his own way."

"Are you asking me to forgive him?"

No, Aaron has no right to ask for Reid to forgive Gideon and his transgressions. He knows that, and certainly, Reid does too. But maybe - but maybe not. Aaron has grown less adventurous and a lot more cynical.

"I'd never ask you to something like that."

Aaron sets down at the edge of his bed, and pulls off his already loosened tie, although he doesn't remember doing that previously.

Reid creeps into the room quietly, and sits next to him.

* * *

><p>The smart thing to do, Reid thinks, is to run. Run out of Aaron's room, call a taxi, go back to Emily's hotel, pick up his car, and go back home. Just like he originally plans to do, and just like he still plans to do. Aaron looks fine, Reid thinks that he has worried about nothing.<p>

"The letter Gideon wrote me," he begins, staring at Aaron's ceiling.

"What about it?"

"I burned it after Stephen left."

"Oh," Reid hasn't moved, but he knows that Aaron is looking at him. "Did it make you feel better?"

Reid says, "I haven't thought that far," because he just might be seriously emotionally stunted and it is going to take him years longer than everyone else.

"Then what have you been thinking about?"

Reid puts one hand on Aaron's shoulder, "I don't know. I've graded lots of essays." It's easy to think of his life in essays: introductions, arguments, conclusions, the end. Life isn't like that at all, and it's so irritating.

"Any of them any good?"

"Jack's are decent," says Reid, trying to be fair. "Actually they're a little better than decent."

Aaron puts his hand over Reid's hand, "No wonder he likes you so much."

Perhaps Aaron is trying to say something else, "He drops by to play chess with me occasionally. I missed that." ("I've told him I love you," almost slips, accidentally.)

Before he changes his mind completely, Reid leans over and kisses him, like an afterthought, as if it's only a natural thing. Aaron tastes very faintly of Scotch. He's probably not drunk anymore.

After that, he changes his mind.

"I should go."

The expression that takes hold of half Aaron's face is shock, something he expects. The other half just looks wistful. As if he remembers. He doesn't - can't say anything.

As long as Aaron is not stopping him, Reid can blame his two drinks at the bar and do what he has always wanted. He kisses Aaron again and tugs the man's tie completely loose from his collar. He licks slow circles around Aaron's mouth and breathes in years of heavy exhaustion and regret.

Reid is halfway in Aaron's lap when he feels a strange pang in his shoulder. Aaron is clutching his shoulders in a death grip.

" - Reid."

Reid stills, but his arms are around Aaron's neck and he doesn't let go. "What?"

"Are you drunk?"

Considering that it's Reid who got Aaron home in one piece, the question seems redundant. Reid looks at him and touches his face, "Does it matter?"

Aaron swallows, hard enough for his throat to ripple.

"It does if you regret me." This has happened before, is something that Aaron doesn't add.

A lump as welled up in Reid's throat. The lump shoots down to his chest and crushes him there. He can't trust himself to speak so he buries his face in Aaron's neck and shakes his head no. No, not again.

They continue kissing in a warm, naked tangle. There's still a small dull-colored scar on Aaron's shoulder. Reid runs over it with his tongue and Aaron sighs his name, "_ReidReid_, oh."

Aaron kisses him and asks for forgiveness. Over and over again. He cannot do so in words, but there are other parts of his body that can't help but be honest.

"Spencer," Reid says, as Aaron nicks his jaw with his teeth. There will be a mark there in the morning. Something to make this whole thing real. "Can I be Spencer? I want to be Spencer, Aaron." He stops asking when Aaron kisses the insides of his thighs.

Later, when Aaron thrusts deeply into him and they move together in the dark, Reid is Spencer. He's Spencer, and no one else.

Reid hears Lila's voice at the back of his head, _is there anyone else_? There probably always has been.

"Aaron!" Reid bucks up sharply. "Aaron, Aaron I -"

Bliss.

* * *

><p>Aaron's alarm clock goes off at 5:45 in the morning, and it's still dark out. His bedroom smells like freshly stale sex, and it's a strange smell. When his eyes have finally adjusted to the dark, Aaron takes in Reid curled up next to him on his bed, looking ten years younger than he is, and vulnerable. His hair is mussed, but he is no less beautiful.<p>

Five minutes, Aaron thinks, because it's early. He shifts over so he can put his arms around Reid.

Three of these precious five minutes pass by, when Reid opens his eyes and looks at him.

"Morning," Reid says. "Do you have to go?"

Aaron shrugs, using the opportunity to shift away, giving the man some space, "I've got two more minutes."

Reid looks him over and says, "Oh."

They lie there not touching for two minutes. Then Reid leans over and kisses him, slowly, like it's the last time.

"I should get going too, I have class." Reid makes a survey around Aaron's room, picking up his clothes.

Aaron waits a beat, then he follows suit. They aren't quite in and out of business casual in five minutes, but it's close. After they are both fit to be seen again, Reid follows him into the kitchen, where Aaron puts on a pot of coffee.

Neither of them say very much, because talking ruins things, but Aaron insists on driving Reid back to Prentiss' hotel so the man can pick up his car. Reid goes ahead of him to the garage, and Aaron watches him limp.

"Does your leg still bother you?"

Reid turns and smiles at him; the smile is a little bit broken, but mostly whole, "It's all right. On most days I don't even notice."


End file.
